


An Arm and a Leg

by Ravager_Zero



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Lyrical Elements, Magic, Non-Consensual Violence, Other, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Discovery, Sexual Identity, Sexuality, Songs, Supportive Sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 89
Words: 394,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravager_Zero/pseuds/Ravager_Zero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of the idea that Anna was a second early on the fjord, and all the repercussions it involves. Political, social, religious, and familial consequences of Elsa's actions during the movie are also explored. May contain lyrical elements. Minor AU. Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney, no challenge to their status is intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> This is being cross-posted from FF.net to serve as a backup, so it will take some time to reach full length here, but when it's caught up I'll post to both sites within a day, later here, just to catch typos, etc. If you have questions or comments about the story, feel free to drop me a message here or over on Fanfiction.net. Same username, without the underscore. In addition, because this is a x-post, I'll be stripping out almost all the A/Ns from FF.net, leaving only trigger warnings where appropriate, and some more relevant commentary on certain chapters.
> 
> As an aside, this story charts almost a full year of writing (it celebrates that milestone on February 9th, in fact), as such it goes from admittedly not great, to somewhat decent, to something people have been telling me I should publish (were it not of course set in a heavily copyrighted and protected franchise).

"Anna is dead because of you."

That was the moment Elsa's world collapsed. The revelation struck her like a physical blow. Anna had frozen to death. Frozen to death because Elsa couldn't control her magic. Elsa fell to the ground, the frozen surface of the fjord. She wanted to cry, to scream, to weep. She wanted to feel anything. Anything at all. She knew she never would. Never again. The wind silenced. The blizzard swirled to nothingness. The snow hung motionless in the air. There was nothing. Nothing left for her.

There was muffled shouting in the distance, but Elsa couldn't make out what was being said. It might have been people calling out names. Maybe even her name. There was a sound, much closer. Metal scraping on metal. It came from behind her, Hans drawing his sword. Elsa didn't care. If Anna was dead because of her, she deserved to die. Footsteps echoed across the ice.

The sound of steel carving through flesh drowned everything else out. There was a crack of bone splintering. An inhuman scream echoed across the fjord. A scream that cut off far too quickly. A sudden crash of breaking steel, a scream of tortured metal. Fire burned across Elsa's back, and she felt something nick against her spine. Her back arched in pain. But she wasn't dead. A soft thud echoed across the ice.

Elsa dared to turn around. If she had not already been on the ground, Elsa would surely have fallen to her knees. Anna stood behind her, frozen. A perfect statue of her sister, rendered in the most heartbreakingly pure ice. But her arm. Her right arm. Elsa fought the urge to vomit. Hans's sword had torn through Anna's arm, starting between her middle finger and ring finger, and ending just past her elbow. Frozen, her arm was a perfect anatomical study.

Elsa stood, wanting to embrace her sister. Tried to stand. Fell over. Pushing herself up with her hands, Elsa realized she couldn't even get her knees under her. Realized she couldn't feel her legs at all. She crawled the few agonizingly short feet to Anna, and used her sister's frozen body to pull herself upright. As she held her sister in the warmest, tightest embrace she could manage, Elsa wept. The tears flowed without sound. There was a soft pat-pat-pat as they hit the ice.

Elsa looked into her sister's face, the pained scream frozen on her lips, the tears misting the ice under her eyes. There was a strange dribbling, and Elsa felt something warm and sticky running down the side of her dress. Anna screamed, falling to the ice, clutching at her ruined arm, dragging Elsa down with her. Elsa knew she had only a faint chance, the pool of blood already spreading over the ice. She pressed her hands to Anna's arm, let the magic flow.

Anna's scream subsided, replaced by slow and ragged breathing. Slowly, shakily, the redheaded Princess of Arendelle stood, her frozen arm hanging at her right side like a dead weight. Her sister still lay in the pool of blood. Anna did her best to ignore it. Ignore the fact it made her feel light-headed and slightly sick.

"Elsa, get up. I want to hug you so bad right now."

"I can't."

"You're still shutting me out?!"

"No, I–I can't stand up," Elsa's breathing became shallow as she realized the implications of what she'd just said. Her legs might have failed her before, but she simply couldn't feel them at all now. They wouldn't do her bidding. It seemed a small price to pay to have her sister back.

"Anna, you saved me," Elsa's voice was full of surprise and gratitude.

"I love you, Elsa. I never want to see you hurt."

"But your arm?"

Anna looked down at the ruin that was her right arm and shuddered. A complex flurry of emotions played across her face, ending with rage and acceptance.

"Is not your fault, Elsa. It's Hans's fault. It was his sword."

Anna stalked over to where Hans was finally regaining consciousness. She let her ruined, frozen arm hang limp, turned so it would be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. His eyes widened with shock as he rose, uncomprehending at first. When he saw the red hair, his expression changed to horror. When he saw the Queen dragging herself hands and knees over the ice towards him, that expression changed to terror. Without a word Hans, prince of the Southern Isles, turned, and ran.

Straight into Kristoff. The ice harvester floored him with a single blow, a beautiful haymaker. Anna tried to applaud, but found it impossible with only one arm working. She waved instead, beckoning him over. He looked down at Elsa, extending a hand to help her up.

"Talk about giving your sister the cold shoulder."

Anna couldn't help it. She giggled like a little girl. Somehow, those words broke the spell of darkness that seemed to be hanging over the ice. Even Olaf was back, stepping over melting ice.

"An act of true love will thaw a frozen a heart," the little snowman said softly. "Anna, that was so brave!"

"I love my sister. More than anything."

"Love will thaw…" Elsa repeated blankly, held up by Kristoff, finally comprehending. "Love."

Everything, all the good times, all the fun they'd had as children. Elsa let the happiness and joy of those times flow through her being. The ice began to melt faster and faster. The snow lifted to the sky. Elsa couldn't help herself, she made all of the snow and ice into a giant snowflake above the town of Arendelle. Then, with a thought, she let it go. She was surprised to be standing on the deck of a ship, Anna holding her up on one side, Kristoff on the other.

"Summer! This the best day of my life!" Olaf exclaimed, melting disturbingly quickly. "And quite possibly the last."

Elsa freed her left hand from Kristoff's shoulder and twirled it in the air, giving the brave little snowman a touch of her magic.

"My own personal flurry!" the joy in his words was infectious. Elsa couldn't help but smile. She saw Anna smiling too, then frowning as she saw Hans standing up. Anna stepped away from her sister, making sure Kristoff was keeping Elsa safe.

"But… your sister froze your heart!"

Anna stepped menacingly close. "You ruined my arm. You tried to kill Elsa. The only frozen heart around here is _yours!_ " Even with her left arm, Anna's punch was powerful enough to send the supposed prince overboard. It helped that he was next to the edge of the deck anyway. Anna smiled, satisfied with her work. She looked back to Elsa, the way Kristoff had to hold her up, and her smile faded.

"Elsa, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know Anna. But I'm not going to shut you out this time. Never again."

"You were a right stinker. But you're back now. And I like the new you."

"Thank you. But what about your arm?" Elsa was very concerned for her sister's wellbeing. "I'm not sure anyone has that kind of magic anymore."

"They don't have to," Anna said softly, trying to hold back a laugh. "We have each other. It only cost us an arm and a leg."

"Anna, that's _not_ _funny_ ," but Elsa was laughing too. That was the best thing about Anna, Elsa decided. She could always see the bright side. Always tried to make you laugh, even if you didn't feel like smiling. Elsa's tone became serious. "You might lose your arm. I don't think the castle physician can do anything with that kind of injury."

Anna looked straight at Elsa, as if the older woman was missing the point. "I know, Elsa, I know. When I felt Hans's blade hit my hand I knew I'd never be able to use my arm again. I was afraid he would kill me. Cut me in half."

Elsa shuddered, but said nothing. It was clear Anna hadn't finished speaking.

"But I wasn't afraid to die. I was afraid Hans was going to kill _you_ Elsa. I couldn't let that happen. No matter how much it was going to cost me."

"You didn't know you'd freeze right then?"

"I was more afraid I'd freeze _before_ I got to you. I was lucky, I guess."

"Hey Anna, Anna," Olaf reached around pulled one of his stick arms out, offering it to the Princess. "You can use my arm."

Anna knelt down before the snowman and hugged him. "Thank you Olaf, but it wouldn't work for me. I can't just put myself back together like that."

"Oh, okay," Olaf sounded disappointed, placing his arm back where it belonged. "I guess Elsa can't use my legs either then?"

Both Anna and Elsa laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Elsa, the snow Queen, riding around on Olaf's legs like they were some kind of sentient footstool. Kristoff helped Elsa to kneel next to her sister, hugging Olaf.

"You never have to do anything like that for us, Olaf," Elsa said softly. "But thank you."

Anna and Elsa looked around, Anna helping her sister to the side of the ship. The royal guard were just fishing Hans out of the fjord. A crowd was starting to gather at the gates of the castle.

"We should get back to the castle," Elsa looked pointedly at her sister. "The people of Arendelle need to know what happened here."

"I'll be there," Anna promised. "By your side. You know, you're getting kinda heavy."

"Did you just call me fat?!"

"Did I say that out loud?" Anna blushed a furious red.

Elsa sighed. "I'm sorry Anna. I know I'm a bit of a drag right now."

Anna laughed so hard she nearly dropped her sister. "I think we need Kristoff's help to move you around."

* * *

Later, speaking from the castle's balcony, Elsa finished her address to the people of Arendelle. "And so, for the attempted murder of my sister, Princess Anna of Arendelle, and for his attempt on my life as Queen, Hans, prince of the Southern Isles is charged with high treason in Arendelle. He is sentenced to exile, to be returned to his brothers by the king of France."

"You may have noticed that my sister, Anna, and the ever reliable Gerda, have not left my side for this entire speech. I would dismiss them so that I could stand upon my own two feet. It would be difficult, for I can no longer feel my feet, or my legs. When prince Hans's sword broke, part of it slashed across my back. That was after he all but sliced Anna's arm in half"—Elsa used her right hand to gesture towards Anna's arm, still frozen and encased in ice—"which is why her arm remains frozen. We fear she may lose it."

"This is not all I have to declare. While prince Hans's actions could be considered an act of war by the Southern Isles, I will not hold them responsible for his actions. His actions were his own. They would not be representative of any but the most atrocious of kingdoms. Thus, when the king of France delivers the traitor prince to his rightful home, I will ask for an envoy to be sent to us, one who better represents the people of the Southern Isles."

"I must also thank all of you, every citizen of Arendelle, for your patience, forbearance, and understanding. I hope the events of the past few days are never repeated. What was done, was done. We are all lucky it could be undone at all. I admit that for the longest time I was afraid of my powers. Afraid of hurting anyone. Everyone. I kept shutting people out. People who could have helped me control them. Explore what they could do."

As she spoke, Elsa was making subtle movements with each hand. Lines of ice began drawing graceful arches over walls and pillars of the castle. Fractal flowers bloomed at the peak of each arch. A massive snowflake decorated the flagpole atop the castle. Ice began to coat the courtyard. The intricacy of the patterns on the arches was breathtaking. The ice underfoot was entertaining.

"So now I will try and use them always as what they are: A Gift."


	2. Nightmares & Memories

The silence was deafening. Anna looked down at her hands, freezing from within. Kristoff was calling her name in the distance. Snow hung motionless in the air. There was the sinister sound of metal scraping against metal. She turned. Hans had drawn his sword, raised it to strike Elsa. Anna ran, her footsteps slow, her body heavy from the ice inside her heart. The sword began to fall.

"No!"

She felt the sword carve deep into her arm. Felt bones splinter and break. Anna's scream echoed across the fjord. The blade continued, ripping through her shoulder in a spray of blood that showered Elsa's back. Anna tried to look away as she fell, her body slowly turning to ice. She couldn't. Elsa's body fell to the side. Just before the ice claimed her, Anna saw her sister's sightless eyes staring at her across the fjord. Elsa's headless body was the last thing Anna ever saw.

With a scream she was awake, sleep still paralyzing her body. Anna took a deep breath. Two. Three. Her right arm felt heavy, cold. With a start she remembered. Her sister had frozen it, after Hans's sword had all but cut it in half. In the moonlight Anna could see the beauty of her sister's magic, the purity of the ice. It was harder to see the split down her forearm, but it was there. She could feel it.

In her head, Anna knew Elsa was fine. In her heart, still clouded by the nightmare, she wasn't so sure. It was silly, but she had to see Elsa, make sure her sister was okay. It wasn't actually a bad idea, she considered. Elsa couldn't walk anymore, she might need something. Before she realized it, Anna was standing at the door to her sister's room. A closed door. A very familiar door—how long had she watched it, waited in front of it, leaned against it? She didn't know. Anna just knew it was a long time, and she knew now why—or at least some of the why—her sister had shut her out.

Trying to keep her safe. Elsa was a stinker, but Anna would never have blamed her for what happened—if she still knew. Anna would have tried to help, to give her sister control. To love her sister. To simply be _there_ for her. It was what sisters were for. It was what she was there for now. And yet, Anna was still hesitating, distracting herself. She was afraid to knock, afraid she wouldn't get an answer.

Anna took a deep breath. She had to have courage, so she knocked on Elsa's door. Just once.

Silence was her only reply. Her sister couldn't be shutting her out that easily again, could she?

She knocked again. And again.

Something unintelligible came through the door.

Anna knocked one more time.

"What?"

"Elsa?"

"Anna, it's—" there was a long pause, a half snore, and another pause "it's two-thirty in the morning."

"I had a bad dream."

"I'm _in_ one," Elsa replied testily, her tone softened by the slurred words.

"I just need to know you're safe. You're okay. You still have all your body—oops. I just said that out loud."

"The door's unlocked Anna. I left it like that for you."

"Oh."

Elsa had propped herself up using several pillows at the head of the bed. Her legs were still under the covers. Anna closed the door behind her, then sat on the bed next to her sister, bowing her head. It was a scene that had played out many times in their youth, before the split.

"Oh, Anna," Elsa gently stroked her sister's unbraided hair. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

"I di—died," Anna mumbled. "I froze. _After_ Hans cut my arm. After he _killed_ you. It was your body, your face—but it wasn't you Elsa. You were dead."

"Shh," Elsa tried to comfort her sister, tried to remember what it was they had done all those years ago. "I'm here. I'm safe. You're safe. It was just a dream."

"A nightmare," Anna corrected absentmindedly. She was suddenly hugging her sister, her frozen arm weighing heavily against Elsa's chest. "I love you Elsa. I don't wanna lose you again."

"You won't," Elsa promised, wrapping her arms around the younger girl. "It's not like I can run anywhere this time."

Anna smiled, her words tentative, a hint of fear behind them. "Is it—is it okay if I sleep here tonight Elsa?"

Elsa took a deep breath, releasing her sister from the embrace.

"Is that a no?" tears glistened at the corners of the red-headed princess's eyes.

"No, Anna. I was just thinking," looking the other way, Anna didn't see the tears at the corner of Elsa's eyes.

"Thinking about what?" Anna sniffed.

"I was thinking about the last time we were in bed together. It was during that big storm. You were four. You ran over to my bed and started crying because of the thunder."

In the moonlight Anna thought she saw a tear roll off her sister's cheek as she spoke. She might have been crying as well. Everything seemed kind of blurry.

"And I slept in your bed for three days."

"Until the storm passed and the aurora lit up the sky."

"The sky was awake," Anna smiled through the tears.

"And that was when you asked me to do the magic," Elsa spoke without thinking. It was after two in the morning, and her brain wasn't working properly anymore.

"I used to know you could do magic?"

"Yes, you did, but… I–uh, something happened. You can't remember now," Elsa's attempt to cover her lapse sounded lame even to her half-awake ears.

"Why can't I remember it?" Anna was curious. This was the first she was learning of her sister's magic from the past.

"Because you don't have those memories anymore, Anna. Grand Pabbie had to take them away from you. I hurt you before. _That's_ why I shut you out," That was it. The truth was out. Anna could hate her all she liked. Elsa could deal with it in the morning—when she was actually awake.

"You are such a stinker Elsa," Anna's voice was full of reproach, but empty of accusation. "Wait, is that why I had the white in my braid?"

"Yes," Elsa sighed. "We were playing, you jumped too high, I slipped, and my magic hit you in the head. Mama and Papa rode all night to save you. We got you to the trolls before dawn. That's when Grand Pabbie took your memories of the magic. I'm sorry Anna. We had to. It saved your life."

"And it ruined yours," the pity in Anna's tone made Elsa's heart ache. She knew she didn't deserve this. "If I _had_ known… I wouldn't have been scared of you Elsa. I wouldn't blame you. It was an accident—"

"An accident that I caused."

"—didn't mama ever tell you it's rude to interrupt? Anyway, where was I?"

"You were saying it wasn't my fault, when it really is."

"It was an _accident_ Elsa. These things happen. Like crashing into Hans's horse—well, that was a bad accident, but at that time it seemed like a happy one. Anyway, I wouldn't have been afraid of you Elsa. I would have tried to help."

"How?"

"I don't know," Anna shrugged hopelessly and Elsa had to laugh.

"That's why I love you so much Anna. You always try to help people. Even if you have no idea what you're doing—no, wait, _especially_ when you have no idea what you're doing."

"Well, when those people can't accept your help; when they keep slamming doors in your face; when they won't even talk to you after your parent's funeral…" Anna's voice trailed off softly. She hadn't really meant to bring _that_ _one_ up. "What was I supposed to do?"

Elsa yawned, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes. What stung wasn't the fact that Anna brought up the day of the funeral. It was the fact that no matter what she said, Elsa knew her sister was right.

"Go to sleep, Anna."

"I was supposed to go to sleep? For thirteen years?!"

"No, Anna. Go to sleep _now_. Because I'm really, really tired."

"Oh, sorry. I guess I might have kept you up past bedtime a little bit."

Elsa mumbled something and rolled over, leaving Anna to listen to her breathing as she dozed atop the covers with her good arm wrapped around her sister. She couldn't see Elsa's sad little smile, couldn't see her silent tears, but Anna could feel her sister relax into the embrace. She wished she had more memories like this one, and quietly began to cry.


	3. Hopes & Fears

The sun sent brilliant shafts through the window of Elsa's bedroom as Gerda knocked at the door. It was perhaps two hours after dawn. The reliable servant had peeked in at dawn, seen both Anna and Elsa in the bed, and decided to let them rest. They needed time to be together with each other, even if that might cut into the time they needed to try and run the kingdom. Now, two hours after sunrise, they really did need to wake up.

Anna mumbled something, sitting upright, eyes still closed. Elsa, next to her, gave a startled cry at the state of her sister's hair. She knew Anna's hair could get messy, but this was… well, she didn't really have words to describe the tangled mass atop her sister's head.

"Queen Elsa, Princess Anna?" they both heard Gerda through the door.

"Jus' five more minutes, please Gerdy," Anna's words were slurred.

"Gerda, thank you," Elsa's words were far clearer. She was used to rising early. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"You looked so peaceful, your highness. It is good to see you spending time with your sister again."

"Oh, okay. Thank you," Elsa turned and shook Anna, who had fallen asleep again. "Come on Anna, time to get up."

"But, but…" Anna protested, then groggily opened her eyes. "Oh. Umm, I—do you—uhh?"

Elsa considered sending her sister out, getting help from Gerda to get changed. Decided against it. If they were going to deal with their injuries, she would take each day on its own. They would overcome all their challenges together. She didn't want Anna to see her as weak, or incapable of anything. Anna wouldn't think like that anyway, Elsa told herself. She'd tell you you were being stupid for not letting her in. _Again_.

"Anna?" Elsa's voice was tentative. "Can you help me change?"

"You can just magic your clothes, right?" Anna shook her head, confused, trying to clear out the fog in her brain.

"I _could_ ," Elsa stressed. "But I don't _want_ to. I want _your_ help."

"You want… my help?" Anna blinked slowly, not quite getting it.

"Yes, Princess Anna, my spirited sister, I want _your_ help," Elsa's tone was playfully mocking, but turned serious. "I need your help. There's a lot I won't be able to do anymore. I—we, have to get used to that. A day at a time."

"I'm not sure how much I can help with just one arm."

"Oh, you'll get it," Elsa assured her sister. "It's not like you let anything stop you in the past."

Anna smiled, and both young women rose from the bed, Elsa only as far her arms could prop her up. The next ten minutes involved a lot of cursing, fumbling, and general disorder. In the end, Elsa was in a state she could reasonably consider dressed. That just left her hair, which had yet to be braided this morning.

"Anna, if you can just leave the mirror next to the bed, I can do my hair. You can go make yourself look presentable."

"But I a—" Anna stopped as soon as she saw her reflection. The sleepy eyes beneath the tangled mass of red hair and the disheveled nightgown were about as opposite presentable as she could imagine. "Uhh, good idea. Thanks. You're sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm fine, Anna. Gerda can help with the braiding. I'll see you in the dining hall for breakfast."

Breakfast had been a quiet affair. They both remembered their words from the previous night. Anna broke first. She couldn't stay mad at her sister. Not when she saw how hard she was trying to change.

"I'm sorry I said it, happy?" Anna's tone was more challenging than apologetic.

"No."

"Wait, what?!"

"I'm not happy. And you're not that sorry. You were right. You needed me, and I wasn't there for you. Couldn't be there for you."

"I know," sadness softened Anna's reply. "I know. They were your parents too. You were always Papa's favourite."

"And you were Mama's little girl," From her tone, it was clear Elsa was still beating herself up about it. "I should have been there for you. Like a real sister."

"Elsa, it's okay. Really, it is. We survived. We got by," Anna pursed her lips. "Maybe we could have had a few more happy memories, but we got by."

"And it's my fault we don't," if Elsa had still been able to walk, she would have been pacing up and down the room. "You might be able to forgive me for that, but I can't forgive myself—at least, not yet."

"Fine. Just… don't be so hard on yourself. I just wanted my sister back. The good _and_ the bad."

"And the price you paid for that, your arm… it's…"

"Don't you dare say it's too much Elsa, or I'll kick your a—umm, I'll hit you somewhere embarrassing that you can still feel."

"Whoa, hold up there feistypants," it was Kristoff, Kai turned and left, having shown him to the dining hall. "Why do you want to hurt your sister?"

"We had a fight. Last night."

"And you're both still in one piece, uh, metaphorically speaking?"

"We're sisters, we don't always fight with our fists."

"Right, right. So… you're both okay, umm, can I get you anything?"

"Why are you here Kristoff?" Elsa was intrigued.

"Well, I was hoping to talk to Anna, alone, if that's okay with you?"

"Does this have anything to do with a sled she ruined?"

"Uh, well, no actually. It's about today. And tomorrow. And the rest of the week too I guess."

"I'd leave you two alone, but I can't just walk out of here," Elsa turned against the chair. "Gerda, Kai, can you help me to the office please?"

The servants carried Elsa out in short order, leaving Anna alone with Kristoff.

"You're not mad about the sled, are you?"

"No, no. Well, a little."

"And what's this about the rest of the week. Made some plans?"

"I was hoping you'd help me."

"I don't think I'm much good with—oh. Oh. _Plans_ ," Anna was a little surprised. She hadn't expected Kristoff to be quite that forward.

"Unless you don't want to go," Kristoff sounded adorably nervous to Anna. Kind of how she imagined she'd sounded to Hans. Adorably nervous, and painfully naive.

"I'd like to get out of the castle this afternoon," Anna smiled at the ice harvester. "Get some fresh air."

"Your arm won't thaw?"

"It's Elsa's magic. It won't. not unless she wants it to."

"What about frostbite?"

"Huh?"

"If your arm stays that cold for too long you'll lose it. A few days before things start to get bad."

"I guess Elsa forgot to tell me that part."

"Maybe she didn't want to scare you."

"She kept dropping hints that my arm couldn't be saved. That it was the price I'd paid to get her back. It was worth it, to me."

"I think she feels guilty for it. I know I would."

"Kristoff, are we going to sit here talking about my sister, or are we going to make some actual plans?"

"Well, we could take Olaf on a picnic. In summer!" Kristoff's singing was bad enough that Anna couldn't help but laugh. "Where is he anyway?"

"You know, I haven't seen him since yesterday afternoon. At all."

"Hmm."

"Hmm."

"Mhmm."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Anna asked brightly.

"What?"

"Rescue mission! Through the castle! We have to save our valiant little snowman!"

* * *

After gathering their supplies—lunch, some rope, and a telescope—they set off through the halls of the castle, searching high and low for Olaf. Anna started with the great hall, then the mezzanine. The ballroom was next, empty as well. Her room. Her sister's room. Their parents' room—Anna made Kristoff wait outside. The study. The library. Elsa's office—which lead to a curt discussion about trying to run a kingdom without a leg to stand on. The courtyard, still covered in ice. The balconies.

"I don't think he's here," Anna sighed, putting down the telescope to pick up a sandwich. "Could he be in town somewhere?"

"Have you heard any screaming recently?"

"Hey, the people of Arendelle are better than that," Anna's words were only half understandable around the sandwich.

"Sure they are Princess feistypants. That's why you kicked his head off when _you_ first met him."

Anna didn't reply, she just picked up the telescope again. On a hunch she looked at the snowflake atop the flagpole. A twiggy arm, sticking out the side of a familiar looking head, waved. The red-haired princess waved back, almost losing the telescope. She could see Olaf's head, and one arm. His torso, legs, other arm, and nose were all missing.

"Well, that makes things a little harder."

Kristoff looked at the flagpole, tried to make out the speck stuck to the snowflake. "He's stuck, isn't he?"

"Yup. I'll get the rope," Anna grabbed the rope, tearing through the halls of the castle, her half eaten sandwich long forgotten. Kristoff shrugged, finished the sandwich, then packed everything up. It wasn't like she could get that far ahead of him. Right?

Kristoff eventually found her dangling from the side of the roof, upside down, braids hanging loose. Anna smiled when she saw him. Then she continued trying to climb the side of the castle roof to reach the flagpole. She made it half a dozen steps before a tile slipped. One arm flailing for balance, Anna fell over backwards, nearly collecting Kristoff with her wildly swinging body. She swayed left and right for several seconds, upside down. Eventually she sighed, trying to get right side up.

"I may not have thought this through," she finally admitted.

"Anna, how did you get the rope up there in the first place?"

"I threw it. Climbing hook on the other end."

"Creative. Good thinking. Except I'm guessing you don't know it's caught under a window frame on the other side of the tower."

"Thanks, that was my bes—wait, what?"

"The rope we took is more than long enough to go twice over the tower roof here. If you just hold on, I can pull you up."

"I can do it myself."

"Sure," Kristoff smiled. "I can see that's already got you up to Olaf."

"Fine."

A short while later, and thanks to a lot of effort on Kristoff's part, Anna was atop the roof, shimmying up the flagpole. Olaf waved down to her. She wanted to wave back, but her good arm was holding her to the flagpole.

"Hi Anna. The view up here is amazing!"

"Olaf, how did you get up there?"

"A horse, I think. I was skating across the courtyard last night, ran into something tall, skinny and kinda tree-ish. Except it wasn't that tree-ish. The next thing I know I'm up here, stuck on Queen Elsa's giant snowflake."

Anna looked down at the courtyard below. That had to have been quite a kick.

"Say, have you seen my nose?"

"I'll get you down, and we can look for it together."

Anna shimmied up a little further, swiped at the snowman, missed. Anna only just managed to grab the flagpole after sliding down ten feet. She climbed higher this time. Swung her good hand for Olaf's head. Felt her hand stick. Felt Olaf's head unstick. That was when she slipped, sliding all the way down the flagpole. Landing hard on the tiled roof, knocking several tiles loose, Anna kept sliding, desperately pulling at the rope. She slid off the edge of the roof.

The rope went taut. Anna felt herself swinging backwards. Braced herself for the wall she knew was coming. And was rather surprised to hear a loud crash as her backside collided with an unopened window, breaking the latch. Spinning in mid-air, Anna lost her grip on Olaf.

"Hi Elsa!" Anna was confused. Who was Olaf _really_ talking to.

"Olaf?" That was definitely _Elsa's_ voice. What was she doing outside the castle?

"Anna?" This time Anna heard her sister sigh. That was also when she realized she was no longer outside the castle. She was also no longer alone. Gerda and Kai were in the room as well. They were both trying their best to suppress their laughter. Anna turned slowly, hanging upside down. Elsa appeared to be sitting on a throne made of ice. A very small, modest throne. That had wheels. Like a cart.

"Umm, Elsa, can I, uhh?"

"It's a wheelchair Anna. So I can get around. Stairs are proving to be something of a problem. I didn't know the castle had so many staircases. Ugh," Elsa's sigh of disgust was meant to be silent, but it was sign of just how frustrated she was that it got out. "So, why are you dangling from a rope on the top floor of the castle, throwing snowmen around?"

"Well, I hadn't seen him since yesterday, so I wondered if he was alright, so we—Kristoff's still outside by the way—went looking for him. All over the castle. Umm, sorry I interrupted that meeting earlier. Anyway, Olaf says a horse kicked him up there."

"Suspiciously strong horse," Elsa commented drily.

"It was a really big one," Olaf waved his arm enthusiastically. "I think he liked my nose."

The sisters looked at each other, the same thought forming in both their minds. If it was dark, Olaf could have easily mistaken a particular reindeer for a horse.

"Sven," they said in unison.

"It was definitely a horse. A really big one. Maybe a palace horse. Like the carriages," Olaf was insistent.

"Are you sure, Olaf?" Elsa asked sternly. "Absolutely sure that it was a horse that did this to you?"

Olaf's eyes were suddenly darting left and right. "Umm, maybe."

"Olaf, did you put your head on the snowflake?"

"Maybe…"

"Olaf?"

"Okay, fine. It was an amazing shot. My head was supposed to clear the roof, not hit the flagpole. My butt's probably still down there, waiting for me to land."

Both sisters looked at the snowman, at his tragically chagrined expression. They couldn't help but laugh. It was just too silly. And so, with Olaf, that must be the truth.

"Okay, but Princess Anna isn't risking her life to rescue you next time," Elsa looked at the snowman's head sternly. Then she turned her gaze on her sister. "Is she?"

Anna sighed, flopping against the wall. "Fine. But it was fun this time. Kristoff! Haul me up!"

The red-headed Princess of Arendelle began to rise through the window, moving somewhat jerkily.

"Next to the flagpole?" Elsa asked.

Anna nodded.

"Gerda, Kai, can you help me get there?" Elsa addressed the servants, already wheeling her chair out under her own strength.

* * *

After the events of the day, that evening was a much more serious affair. Mostly due to the fact both sisters had to check in with the castle physician. For the first time in many years, they attended together. The physician inspected Anna's arm first, through the ice.

"Queen Elsa, is it possible to reverse this enchantment?"

"It is. I assume you ask because it is necessary?"

"Yes, very much so. I must see how much damage the sword has done to princess Anna's arm. The bone and blood vessels especially. I need to be able to see them to do my work."

"Anna?" Elsa's voice was soft, almost fearful.

"Do it Elsa," Anna gritted her teeth, steeling herself for the pain that was about to come.

Elsa placed her hands against her sister's arm, one at the shoulder, one just above the elbow. The ice encasing Anna's upper arm slowly faded to nothingness. Anna rubbed the spot absentmindedly, looking away from what she knew was coming next. Elsa passed her hands over Anna's forearm, concentrating on removing just part of the ice. Anna gasped in pain and blood started pouring from the wound.

The physician moved as swiftly as possible, inspecting the wound, cleaning it, extracting fragments of bone. One by one he clamped off the blood vessels. Anna was whimpering, she had fallen against the bed several moments ago. Elsa sat at her side, holding her hand. Elsa hated it, not being able to do more when her sister was in such pain. the physician was tying off the blood vessels, sealing them up. He explained how it was necessary to do it as soon as possible, and how he had wanted to do it the previous night, but apologized for being out on house calls to the townsfolk at the time. All the doctors and physicians Arendelle had were making sure the population of the town was safe and healthy after the temporary winter.

The physician went on and on as he worked, but Elsa tuned him out. Her only concern was Anna. She could see the tears rolling down her sister's cheeks. She couldn't imagine that kind of pain. At last the physician was done, asking Elsa to reenact the enchantment in order to preserve's Anna's arm as much as possible. When she got halfway up Anna's upper arm the physician told her to stop. His work would do the rest, for now.

Elsa pulled her sister into a tight embrace. "That was so brave. Are you okay?"

"I–I'm okay," Anna said shakily, rubbing at the ice encasing her arm. "I hope I never have to do that again."

"I'm afraid you will," the physician was apologetic. "I cannot save your forearm. Your sister's magic has prevented any disease or major blood loss, but it will have to be amputated."

The physician noted the look on Anna's face. Not shock, outrage, or fear, but quiet, sad acceptance.

"But, I guess you knew you would lose the arm. So, we must set a date—soon—for the procedure. And now, Queen Elsa, have you any improvement?"

"No," Elsa sighed. "I can't feel my legs. Anything below my waist really."

"That is a bad sign. If you could lie on the bed there, I will inspect the cut."

Elsa, with some help from a slightly shaky Anna, dragged herself onto the bed, lying face down. Elsa felt Anna undo the lacing of her dress, pulling down the back to let the physician see the cut. Elsa could feel some of what he was doing, poking and prodding at the cut. The physician placed a hand against her leg. Elsa assumed it was her leg from where the shadows fell.

"Queen Elsa, can you feel my hand?"

"No, I cannot."

"Now?"

"No."

"Now?" Elsa got the faintest twinge of feeling near her backside.

"I don't know, maybe?"

"Now?" She could feel that, a hand at the small of her back.

"Yes."

"The blade struck you across the lumbar vertebrae. The cut is remarkably clean, but does not appear especially deep. However, it was obviously deep enough to hit the spinal cord. If it has been severed, you may never walk again, my Queen."

Elsa said nothing. She knew something like this had been coming. Had been bracing herself for it. "Anna, can you help me into my chair?"

She didn't bother with fixing her dress. Elsa slid into the chair with as much dignity as she could manage. She was going to get to her room. She was going to get changed. She was going to get into bed. Then she was going to send them all away, to their own rooms.

And then… well… Elsa sighed, not letting her sadness show. Then she was going to cry herself to sleep.


	4. Small Things

It was late, all the lights were out, and Anna was just returning from the upstairs kitchen. She'd needed a glass of water. That was it. At least, that's what she told herself. The fact it gave her an excuse walk past Elsa's door had nothing to with it. She sighed. It had everything to do with it. She thought she heard sniffing on her first walk past. Walking back, she could hear quiet sobs. It wasn't like her sister to cry like that. She knocked on the door.

"Elsa?"

"Go away Anna!"

"No."

"I want to be alone," Elsa sobbed through the door.

"No, you don't," Anna said soothingly. "You just don't want to be a problem."

"No, I just want t—when did you get that smart?"

"I might not be that smart normally, but Elsa, you're my _sister_. I can tell when you're hurting. Even if you don't want me to know."

"I–I can't argue with that."

Anna tried the door. It wasn't locked. Just like the previous night, she sat on the bed next to her sister. Elsa reached up to hug her.

"Elsa, what's really wrong?" Anna asked softly. "Are you still upset about the funeral—about our fight?"

"No," Elsa lied. She was still a little upset by that, but this was something else. "It's just—well, when the physician told me—I–I realized this was going to be permanent. I wouldn't be able to walk again. Ever. I'm going to need so much help Anna. So much. Even for little things."

"Like what, getting dressed?"

"Yes. Getting around the castle, moving past stairs, using the bathroom—"

"Like taking a bath?" Anna wasn't that surprised. "I can see where you might have some problems."

"More than that," Elsa shivered in her sister's arm. "I needed Gerda's help today. I didn't like what we had to do. I'd never ask it of anyone."

"What, like nobody else has to use the bathroom?" Anna was starting to question her sister's grip on reality.

"Nobody else needs help!" Elsa was surprised at just how loud her voice was in the stillness of the night.

"And that's why you're so upset?" Anna couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry Elsa, but really, that just seems silly."

Elsa sighed heavily, leaning into her sister's arm. "It seems small and silly. Until you realize you can't do it anymore. That you'll need help to do it for the rest of your life."

Anna hugged her sister tightly. She didn't have an answer to that.

"One day at a time," Anna whispered to Elsa.

"One day at a time," Elsa repeated. "Anna?"

"Yes?"

"Can you sleep here tonight, please?" Elsa's voice was edged with sorrow and regret. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

* * *

Elsa woke at the first knock, rising suddenly. Anna rolled out of bed sideways, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

"Ow," she rubbed her eyes, looking at the wan light streaming in through the window. "What the—dawn?"

"Sorry Anna," Elsa put a hand out to help her sister rise. "I have a lot to do as Queen. It always seems to involve paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork."

"I know, but dawn?"

"You could always go back to sleep."

"Not yet. I'll help you get dressed. And everything else. _Then_ I'll go back to sleep."

"Are sure you want to help with ' _everything_ else'?"

"Elsa, I'm half asleep. I might be lucky enough to not remember what happens in there. But we're sisters. I'll be here for you."

"Like you always were," Elsa sighed. "I only wish I'd reached out to you earlier. None of this would have happened."

"I wish you had too. I really missed my sister," Anna's voice was sombre, but suddenly perked up. "I had an idea for the stairs. What if you used your magic to make one side a ramp for your chair?"

"I—Huh, that would actually work. It's my magic so I'd never slide across it if I didn't want to."

"See, some of my ideas are actually useful."

"Some," Elsa stuck out her tongue.

"Alright, let's get you dressed and, uh—I guess we undress you first, so you can uh—"

Elsa nodded. "It's easier to use the bathroom when my dress isn't getting in the way. Oh, don't look so shocked."

Some time later Anna was washing her hands, quite thoroughly. "Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"It's still embarrassing—to me," Elsa said quietly.

"You'll have to stop being embarrassed by it someday, Elsa. I mean, I'm sure there are other people like you—uh, in your positi—you know what I mean."

"I know Anna," Elsa laughed. "I can accept this. I can _try_ to accept this. One day at a time. It's okay to tell a few jokes about it—it'll make me feel better, seeing as I don't have a leg to stand on anymore."

"Oh, Elsa, you're terrible. You know that?" Anna failed utterly at concealing her mirth.

"Elsa the Terrible!" Elsa pitched her voice in a dark whisper, sliding back in her chair. "She commands you to get her dressed and presentable for the day. She also wishes to enquire what you would like done about that _thing_ atop your head."

"Hey, leave the hair alone. It's not my fault it gets like that."

"Much," Elsa giggled. "You have no idea how much you toss and turn."

"Okay, back in your chair. We'll get you dressed. How about this lovely pink number," Anna held up a garishly pink nightmare covered in all sorts of lace and ruffles.

"No, no," Elsa crossed her fingers at her sister in mock horror. " _Anything_ but that."

"You could always make yourself another dress. I really liked the one you wore in the ice palace."

"I need something to work with," Elsa explained. "I can't just make fancy clothes out of nothing."

"Technically… you did."

"Oh, please. I made some sleeves and a cape. The dress was already there. I just… embellished it a little. Now will you please help me get dressed into something nice?"

"How about this pastel blue?"

"That one's fine. Would you like to braid my hair after?"

"But you look nice with your hair down like that Elsa."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," Elsa said, struggling into the dress. "I just need to get on with trying to fix Arendelle. Abandoning Weaseltown as a trade partner may have been a touch hasty. The King of France and the royal consort of Spain gave me some intriguing offers before they left. I must inspect them more closely."

"I thought you did that yesterday?" Anna asked, lacing up the back of the dress. "When I kind of interrupted you looking for Olaf."

"I was actually in talks with the ice harvesters guild. And the farmers of Arendelle. People not exactly happy with the little winter I caused. Certain crops were apparently quite damaged, but most could be saved. The ice harvesters don't like the idea of being completely out of work with my magic around here. And what about your ice harvester?"

"Who, Kristoff?" Anna blushed slightly. "We're just friends."

"Sure. Just like Hans," the words were out of her mouth before Elsa could stop them. "No, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Anna?"

"I learned my lesson. We're taking it slow. I _still_ owe him a sled," Anna's voice was calm, but her hands were a bit rougher than she intended when she started braiding Elsa's hair.

"Talk to one of the master craftsmen of the castle. Tell them it's on the Queen's orders. I'm sure they can put something together for you."

"I'll do that," Anna mumbled, yawning. "I think I'll take a nap first though."

The younger woman flopped backwards onto the bed. In seconds she was asleep. Elsa quietly envied how easily her sister could sleep in on days like this.

* * *

It wasn't long before Elsa sat behind her desk, in the study. The stacks of paper only seemed to get larger. She could have sworn she dealt with a stack half this size yesterday. Then she saw that Kai had helpfully sorted the piles, and she'd been ignoring his efforts. There were four piles in all: Urgent Business; Business of the Kingdom; Enquiries to your majesty's health; Dislike of your majesty's powers.

Elsa sighed, putting the labels down. Kai's penmanship was immaculate. It hurt that the dislike pile was almost as large as the enquiries pile. It really hurt that the business pile was twice the size of them combined. The urgent pile, thankfully, held only a handful of items. Still, it took Elsa all morning to deal with them. Figuring out what to do with the Jorgenson-Finkelson dispute was the most time consuming. How could two families feud for so long over a single fencepost? Honestly, Elsa didn't care about the dispute. She cared about setting things in order.

"Kai?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Please find Princess Anna. We are going to take a tour of the town."

"Will you need our assistance, Queen Elsa?"

"Thank you Kai, that won't be necessary. You and Gerda may stay in the castle or roam as you wish. I do not expect to return before dinner time."

"You're sure you can keep up with Princess Anna."

"I'm the Queen. I can order her to wait," Elsa smiled. "If it comes to that. I doubt, however, that she will want to leave my side. This will be our first excursion outside the castle—together—since, well, I cannot really remember when Kai."

"I believe you were eight, and she was five. You went sledding with the King and Queen. It was a few days before the accident."

"Thank you Kai, now, if you would kindly fetch my sister?"

"At once, your highness."

As he turned and left, Elsa wheeled her chair to the grand doors at the entrance of the castle, wondering what kind of reception she would get from the townsfolk of Arendelle.

"Hi Elsa. Hey, cool chair. Are we playing outside today?"

"Good morning Olaf," Elsa tried to pull the snowman closer by grabbing an arm. The arm came. The snowman didn't. Elsa grinned sheepishly. "Sorry Olaf."

"It's okay. I didn't know you wanted a piece of me that badly. So, can I come too? Is Anna coming? And Kristoff?"

"Anna's coming with me," Elsa confirmed. "We might see Kristoff, I'm not sure what his plans are. You can come too. I'm sure the children will love you."

"Yay!" Olaf's excitement was infectious. "I'm gonna make so many friends!"

"What are you so excited about Olaf?" Anna asked, stepping behind her sister's wheelchair.

"Elsa said I can come with you guys through the town."

"And she didn't tell me?" Anna moved so Elsa could see her frown. It looked adorable.

"Kai was supposed to tell you."

"He did, I'm just teasing. You might want to put a warning on those stairs."

"It was _your_ idea."

"It was?"

"This morning. When you were helping me get dressed."

"It's kind of a blur honestly. Was it before sunrise?"

"Dawn, just after."

"Honestly, I got nothing," Anna shrugged expressively. "So, where are we going?"

"Just around town. I'm the Queen now. I should have some kind of public presence. I can't stay in the castle all the time."

"I'm proud of you Elsa, this is a big step, getting out of your room to meet people. Moving away from the castle, visiting your loyal subjects. Hey, wait up!"

* * *

If Elsa had been pressed to label her visit through the town, she would have called it a whirlwind tour—with Anna doing most of the whirling. They had visited at least twenty different stores and houses. Elsa had talked with at least twice that many people—an exercise that was wearing her out. They were now inside a small but well appointed dressmaker's shop—Handmaidens of Hoeflor.

"And that's how we make such fine dresses," the young seamstress finished explaining.

Anna's eyes took a moment to focus. She had drifted off halfway through the explanation. Elsa took it in her stride. Olaf was trying on some girl's dresses.

"Hmm, very fetching in this little yellow number," he mused quietly. "But ugh, yellow and snow. Not a good combination. Does it come in blue?"

Elsa gave the little snowman a stern look.

"What, I was just asking."

"Olaf, you don't _need_ clothes."

"But they're so much fun."

"I'm sure they are Olaf. Thank you for the lesson, mistress Hoefler. Anna, it's time to go."

The three of them left the shop, Olaf nearly nearly losing his head to the door's backswing. Elsa stopped at the side of the road, folding her hands across her lap. Anna stood behind her, resting her hand against the back of the wheelchair. Both sisters had witnessed the full range of reactions to both their injuries and actions during the short winter. Mistress Hoefler, the seamstress, had been the first one that had just treated them like normal people. Not royalty, just normal people. It was clear that she knew the sisters, knew who they were. Yet she treated them like any other customer. Elsa found it refreshing. Anna found it slightly odd.

"Hi Sven!" The sisters turned to see Kristoff dismounting the reindeer.

"Hi Princess Anna. Queen Elsa. Hello Olaf—not still launching your head over the castle are you?"

"No," Olaf folded his hands behind his back, dragging one foot across the cobbles.

"Good to hear," Kristoff smiled up at Anna. "Queen Elsa, may I borrow your sister for the afternoon?"

"Only if you can promise to bring her back before dinner. And no trolls."

"I just wanted to show her something we found on the way home yesterday."

"Have fun Anna," Elsa waved to her sister.

"You'll be okay, right?" Anna was as concerned as ever for her sister.

"I'll be fine, don't worry. I can use Olaf as a cushion if I fall."

"Hey!" the little snowman was indignant.

"We should probably head back anyway. It'll take me a while to get there."

"I'll see you at dinner," Anna promised as they rode away. "So, my mysterious reindeer king, what did you want to show me?"

Kristoff didn't answer, just spurred Sven to a gallop towards the forest.

"You said no trolls."

"It's just inside the forest. Nowhere near the valley."

Sven had slowed, and they both dismounted at the edge of the trees. Kristoff led Anna by her good hand, muttering something about having seen it before. There it was, sitting in a pile of splinters and twisted strings. Anna grimaced. She'd forgotten about that.

"I have to admit," Kristoff was saying. "It _was_ a brilliant strike. Kind of a pity. I liked that lute."

"I can get you a new one," Anna assured him.

"I don't _want_ a new one. I don't even want that one back."

"Then what do you want?"

"To remind you that you're stronger than you think you are, Princess feistypants."

"Really, that's it?"

"Well, yeah, I guess it is," Kristoff leaned back against a tree. Sven nosed next to him and he held the reindeer's snout, making the voice, speaking quietly. "Just tell her how you feel."

"She knows."

"Are you sure, Kristoff?" Kristoff rolled his eyes at the reindeer. "Because she looks kinda confused about why we're here."

"I hate it when you're right," Kristoff sighed, grabbing a carrot for Sven. The reindeer ate half. Kristoff began eating the other half. Anna tried to keep the disgust off her face. Of all the things…

"Can we get back to the castle now?"

Kristoff hauled himself into the saddle. "Sure, climb on."

What was I trying to do? he asked himself. She isn't ready for that yet. You had fun yesterday, exploring the castle. Fun. It wasn't a date. Give her time. That last thought had sounded like Sven.

"Did I just say that out loud?"

Anna was giggling. Mostly because of how red Kristoff's face was becoming.

"To the castle, my valiant, pungent reindeer king!"

Well, it was better than a lot of the other things she could have called him in that moment, Kristoff decided, spurring Sven into a gallop. Elsa was waiting at gates, the very picture of regal grace, hands folded delicately in her lap, hair finely braided, wearing a sparkling blue-white dress. Olaf was skating across the courtyard, oblivious to everything going on around him, a happy smile on his face.

"Wow, Elsa, you look amazing," Anna was deeply impressed. Her sister looked magnificent. "Not trying to impress anyone?"

"No," Elsa's voice was soft, but had the full weight of her authority behind it. "I have made plans for some… activities… after dessert."

"Dessert?" Anna was very tempted to simply tear into the kitchens.

"Involving large amounts of pudding, chocolate, and ice cream."

Sooo tempted. "What's the catch?"

"That we have to spend the evening together. And talk."

"That's not hard. We've been talking every day."

"No, we have to _talk_ ," Elsa stressed the word very specifically. "About our injuries. What they mean for the future."

Anna closed her eyes. "I don't want to have a talk like that, Elsa."

"We have to," Elsa's tone was conciliatory. "The sooner we face them, the sooner we know what our limits are, the easier it will be to find ways around them."

"We're going to need a lot of chocolate for that kind of talk."

"Which is why I'm not letting you anywhere near the kitchen until then.


	5. Snow in the Halls

Elsa sat in the middle of the grand hall, snow covering the floor around her. She actually sat on the floor, having taken the time to cross her legs—a surprisingly difficult task given that she only had her hands to do it with, and a tendency to fall over if unsupported. Behind her she had raised a small wall of ice, enough to keep her upright, nothing more. Elsa's hands lay folded in her lap, the picture of regal poise.

Anna sat next to her, to Elsa's right. She was similarly cross-legged, copying her sister's pose—if not her grace—with an ease Elsa found a little disheartening. Much the same we she felt about the rapidly disappearing pile of chocolate between them.

"Anna, seriously. Save some for me."

"Oh, sorry. I'm just nervous."

"But you're not about to run away," Elsa smiled. "You're not like me."

Anna looked at her sister dubiously. "You're about to run away?"

"Metaphorically, Anna. I know you don't _want_ to have this talk."

"Really, it's only the chocolate keeping me here."

"Being able to spend time with your favourite sister doesn't count?" Elsa mocked being hurt.

"You're my only sister, Elsa. I'll never forget that. But, tonight's going to be awkward. Stuff about arms, legs, bathrooms, changing, dresses, Kristoff—wait, what?"

"Oh, it's alright Anna. I know you like him. He likes you too. I doubt you losing your arm is going to change his mind about that."

"And you just _know_ I'm going to lose my arm?"

"Anna, there is _no_ magic still in the kingdom of Arendelle that could heal such an injury," Elsa's tone was firm. "You have to accept that."

"And I do."

"No, Anna, you don't. I can tell by the way you've been acting. As if everything is normal. As if nothing has changed. Ignoring the things you can't do anymore—or shouldn't do. I cannot begin to tell you how dangerous that stunt with the flagpole was with only one arm. You're lucky you didn't land headfirst on the roof. Then I wouldn't have had any sister!"

Elsa's anger was real, but Anna knew it wasn't directed at her. Knew what was really behind it.

"You're afraid one day I won't be there to help you."

"No," Elsa lied. "I'm scared you'll hurt yourself doing something stupid, trying to have too much fun. I'm scared of you dying in some stupid accident. No. I'm scared of _surviving_."

"Why?" Anna's reply surprised Elsa. Was it possible she didn't know?

"I love you Anna," the older sister replied. "Maybe more than you'll ever know."

"You could show it a little more," Anna teased, leaning in for a hug. Elsa wrapped her arms around her sister.

"You're right, I could show it more. Then you wouldn't be able to tease me so much about," Elsa poked out her tongue in a most un-queenly gesture.

"It's more than that, isn't it?" Anna became serious.

"It is," Elsa agreed, resting her chin on Anna's shoulder. "When Hans told me you were dead… when he said it was my fault. I was ready to give up."

"And if I hadn't got to you in time, if you had died because I was too slow, you think that would be any different?"

"Yes. No! I don't know Anna," Elsa trailed off. "I was ready to give up. I didn't _care_ anymore."

"You were…" shock widened Anna's eyes. "No, Elsa, please. Please tell me—you can't think like that. Not—I won't let you!"

"I don't deserve this," Elsa sobbed into her sister's shoulder.

"What, being here? Losing your legs? Having me as a sister?" Anna was a little confused. If this was what the talk was really about, why was she here? Why weren't they sitting on the bed. Again.

"Everything," Elsa whimpered. "You're a good person Anna. You shouldn't be burdened with a sister like me."

Anna stood up so suddenly Elsa hit the snow with a soft thud. The red haired Princess of Arendelle then knelt next to her sister, holding out an accusing finger.

"Elsa, don't you ever, ever think like that!" the anger in Anna's voice was very real. It scared Elsa a little—she had _never_ seen her sister this angry about, well, anything. "You are my sister. My beautiful sister. And there's something I want you to know."

Propping her sister up against a snowdrift, Anna began to dance—awkwardly; and sing—beautifully; in the snow.

Repeating words until they're true  
It slows the breathing  
Pretend they never came from you  
It kills the feeling

It's not what I want  
It's wearing you down  
We're back where we started  
No turning around  
You're falling apart  
I'm tearing walls down  
It's not what I want

Before you walk, you'll learn to fall  
Well stop and count to ten  
We'll put your pictures on the wall  
We'll stop and start again

I'm not what you want  
You said what I never could  
You're falling apart  
You said you never would

For always  
Always  
In all ways  
Always

We only go so far  
It's not what I want for you

You're always in my heart  
It's wearing you down  
We're back where we started  
No turning around  
You're falling apart  
I'm tearing walls down  
It's not what I want

Know that I'm here  
Wherever you are  
I'll be in your heart  
I'll stand by your side  
Thaw your heart of ice

For always  
Always  
In all ways  
Always

Anna flopped down next to her sister, wrapping her good arm around Elsa's shoulders.

"I don't care what you _want_ Elsa," Anna's tone was serious but endearing. "I'll be there for you. Always. Because even though you won't admit it, you need my help. And I'll be there to help you, Elsa. Always. Because you're my sister, and I love you."

Elsa said nothing. There was nothing to say. She just sat there and wept. She didn't a deserve a sister so brave and forgiving. So spirited and warm. So… so… so much like Mom.

"Mom would have been so proud of you Anna," Elsa sobbed. "You're a better person than I could ever be."

"You are such a stinker," Anna slapped her sister. "You have no idea how much I looked up to you. Well, when I got to see you. Which wasn't that much to be honest. Sometimes at night, or just after sunrise. I'd be half asleep, and you would steal away through the night. I knew how lonely you must be, locked up in your room all the time. It made me sad, thinking about how much you missed cooped up in there. I mean, I understand why now, but that doesn't make it any less sad. I just wish you'd opened that door. Once. Once would have been enough."

"I was _scared_ Anna. So scared. I was eight. My magic nearly _killed_ you. We rode all night with Papa to take you to the trolls. They saved your life, but to do it they had to take your memories of my magic. That's why you could never remember. It happened right there"—Elsa pointed to a spot on the floor, clear of snow—"you jumped from a huge pile of snow. you kept going higher and higher, completely fearless. I couldn't keep up. I slipped on the ice and fell. The magic hit you in the head."

"And that's why I always had the white in my braid," Anna nodded, half-remembering their discussion a few nights prior. "You already told me all this Elsa. I'm not mad at you. Honestly. It was an accident—don't interrupt—and I wish I'd known. I wanted my sister back so bad. So very badly."

"I–uh, we still need to talk about your arm," Elsa changed the subject. It was getting uncomfortable.

"Mhmm," Anna fixed her sister with a pointed stare. Due to her soft smile it was not nearly as effective as she might have hoped. "Before we talk about that"—Anna surreptitiously stole another chocolate from Elsa's pile, her own having disappeared some time ago—"I want to formally forgive you for nearly killing me all those years ago."

"An-na," Elsa whined, falling back into the snow. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, but it's not your forgiveness I need."

"What, my forgiveness isn't good enough?!"

"Yes! No. No!" Elsa groaned, trying to roll over to bury her face in the snow. Was it possible to make this worse? "Ugh, what did I just say?!"

"Well, you just insulted the Royal Princess of Arendelle, your only sister, and your friend Anna by implying her forgiveness was not good enough for you."

Just kill me now. Elsa used one arm to roll sideways, pressing her face against the snow. It muffled her scream of outraged annoyance quite well. She knew she deserved everything her sister had just thrown at her. Every word.

"So, your _majesty_ ," Anna's tone was about as unflattering as it was possible to be without using colourful language. "Why is my forgiveness not good enough?"

"Because it's not mine," Elsa mumbled into the snow. She felt Anna roll her right side up, one eyebrow arched in a silent question. "Because it's not mine."

"Ah. Because it—oh. You can't forgive yourself. Elsa, just _let it go_."

"I can't."

"You can't, or you won't?" Anna's tone was edged with accusation.

"I can't," Elsa repeated. "Not alone."

"Oh you Stinker!" that was fast becoming Anna's favourite epithet for her sister.

Lying there in the snow, practically helpless, Elsa couldn't see much. Which was especially bad as she had just heard Anna laugh. It wasn't her sister's normal laugh either. It had sounded positively machiavellian. That was when four pounds of snow was dropped on her head, temporarily blinding her.

"There," Anna said brightly. " _Now_ we're even."

Brushing away the snow, Elsa couldn't help but laugh. Anna might have no special powers, but to be loved by her was a very special magic indeed. Elsa promised herself she would do her utmost every day to earn that love.


	6. Night Time Rituals

Sitting up, brushing snow from her shoulders, Elsa shook with laughter.

"That wasn't very fair," she moaned.

"So?" Anna grinned, laughing heartily. "You nearly killed me."

"You think that's enough to break the spell?" Elsa's voice was serious, but one arm was surreptitiously rolling together a large ball of snow. Anna never saw it coming.

"Cold. Cold cold. Elsa, really?"

Elsa only laughed in reply, until a snowball hit her in the side of the head. It hadn't occurred to her to track Anna's movements. Now she had no idea where her younger sister was. Another snowball hit her from behind. There was a soft crunching of snow underfoot. Elsa braced herself, then had a better idea.

"Put the snowball down, or the chocolate gets it!" Elsa dangled the chocolate over her tongue. The snowball knocked the chocolate from her grasp. The rest of it plastered her face. "Real mature."

"You were threatening my chocolate."

"You ate all of those well before the talk got started. A talk we still haven't had properly."

"A talk I don't really want to have."

"Oh sit down. We're going to have this talk. And we're going to behave like responsible adults."

"And if I refuse—hey, no fair," Anna squealed in surprise as the snow wrapped her feet and dragged her down next to Elsa.

"We're going to have this talk, Anna. I know you don't want to. You think you know what losing your arm means, but you don't."

"And why don't I?"

"Because while you can accept it on an intellectual level, you haven't accepted it on an emotional level, a personal level. You're still treating the world as if nothing's changed. Something has."

"And why should I limit myself because of that?" Anna's tone was inflammatory.

"Because if you don't, you're going to get _hurt_. And I won't be able to help you."

"Like you helped me so much in the past!" Anna regretted those words as soon as she said them.

"I wasn't there for you then, but you were always there for me. I'm not making that mistake again Anna. I'm going to make it up to you," Elsa sighed. "Somehow. And I don't want you to limit yourself. Your courage always inspired me. You were never afraid to take on any new challenges. You tried so hard at everything, even if you failed. You always tried. You don't know how amazing you are, Princess Anna of Arendelle. What I want you to realize is that things are different now. There are things we can't do anymore. Some on our own, some of them together. You said 'one day at a time'. You have to live it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have to realize your injury, losing your arm, is going to change what you are capable of. But it's not going to change you. Even Hans's betrayal hasn't changed you—oh, sure, you're a little wiser now, but you're still the same brave, spirited, wonderful girl that was always my sister."

"Okay, I guess. Does this mean I have to change? Should I change? What is losing my arm supposed to mean?" Anna was going through a complex flurry of emotions, not sure which to put forward first.

"No, of course not Anna. You don't have to change. Well, not much. You just have change your ideas about what you can and can't do safely. Like riding bikes down halls and staircases."

"You knew?" Anna was quite surprised.

"Of course I knew. You were lucky you didn't break anything. Well, aside from that suit of armour. At least, that's what Papa said when he told me."

"He would be proud of you Elsa. You might not see it now, but you got all his authority and strength. His wisdom too, I think."

Elsa smiled, accepting the compliment. "And that's why I asked to have this talk tonight. So we can talk about Mama and Papa, about being mothers, having fathers. Children. Or…"

"Or what, Elsa?" Anna's voice grew heavy with concern. It wasn't like her sister to trail off like that if she was saying something important.

"I was talking with the castle physician. I know Mama wasn't much older than I am when I was born. I asked about having a family of my own…" Anna could see the tears forming in her sister's eyes when she finished speaking.

"Oh, Elsa," Anna shook her head, pulling Elsa into the tightest embrace she could manage with one arm. "Is this what you really wanted to talk about?"

"Your arm was first," Elsa sniffed. "I had to make sure you understood how important your safety was to me. How important it's always been."

"So the physician said you can't have a family, ever?" just like Anna to cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"Not exactly," Elsa explained slowly. "He said that I might bear a child. _A_ child. _One_."

"Why only one?"

"Because, he says that other women like me, those that didn't have children, often died giving birth. Something goes wrong."

"What aren't you telling me, Elsa?"

"He also said," Elsa sobbed. "That less than one in ten of those children survives. The number of mothers that survive is even less. Anna, I can _never_ have my own family."

"You have me," Anna squeezed her sister tight. "It's not the same, I know."

"It's more than that Anna. Something you would never want to do to anyone."

"Something I would never—Elsa, what is it?"

"I can never have a family of my own. The royal line would end with me, Anna. My days as Queen are numbered. The laws are quite simple. As soon as you become a mother—because I have no heirs of my own—you inherit the throne, and become Queen. Your family line will be stronger than mine. And if I try to have a family, if I have an heir—what if she has my powers?"

"Why would that be such a problem?"

"What if she has my powers," Elsa elaborated. "And I'm _not there_."

"You tell _me_ 'one day at a time'," Anna groaned, flopping back in the snow. "And here _you_ are, thinking of families and succession."

"Because it's important, Anna. We have to be prepared to deal with these things."

"Really, right now, just after dessert?" Anna was skeptical. "Okay, maybe I did need a talking to about my arm. But everything else, couldn't it have waited… oh… a few years before you dumped it all on me? I mean, not that I'm accusing you of doing this deliberately to try and make me more responsible or anything, but, really, it couldn't wait?"

Elsa flopped back in the snow with her sister, little snowdrifts falling between them. "Maybe. I guess it wasn't very nice of me to spring that on you right now. I just—well, I just needed to get it off my chest. I needed somebody who understood what it all meant."

"Umm, about that…"

"I know Anna. You don't have to understand it all right now. As long as you know it's going to be on my mind for a while. It'll be on my mind, and I need someone to talk to about it."

"Gerda, Kai?" Anna teased.

"Really, you'd have me bother the staff with problems of this magnitude?" Elsa sprinkled snow on her sister's face. Anna sneezed.

"Well, honestly, no," Anna's voice turned introspective. "I guess you don't have any friends to talk to about it either. It's only me. Well, I guess you could tell Olaf."

"I can see _that_ going well."

"Yeah," Anna agreed idly. "So, the physician said I have to set a date for the operation soon?"

"The sooner, the better, in his opinion. Your forearm can't be saved, but he doesn't want frostbite claiming the rest of your arm."

"Did he say what has to be done?"

"He explained some of it," Elsa swallowed audibly. "From what I got, it's going to hurt. A lot. You'll probably faint, several times. Then they've got to stitch the flesh over the stump, cover it in bandages so it can heal."

Anna shivered. "Elsa, when it's time, will you be there?"

"I–yes. Yes. No matter what happens, I'll be there for you."

"Thank you Elsa. I mean it."

"I know. You're a good friend—and a better sister. Can you help me back into my chair?"

"Umm, Elsa, where did—oh," Anna looked around for the wheelchair before she noticed Elsa conjuring it from the air. Helping her sister into the chair, Anna started talking again. "If the physician agrees, I'll have the operation tomorrow."

"Anna, you shouldn't make the decision so hastily. You still have a few days."

"No, Elsa. If I don't make a decision now, I might not make it at all. And that really won't help anyone," Anna spoke casually as she wheeled Elsa up the ice ramp to the first floor.

"I can't argue with that," Elsa shook her head. "I should, but once you've made up your mind, I know what you're like."

"What I'm like?" Anna stopped short, the wheelchair rolled another few inches.

"It was a compliment. Really. Your determination to see things through."

"Okay. Do you need anything before bed Elsa?"

"Well… I'll need help getting changed, and, uh, getting ready for bed."

"Elsa, you don't need to be embarrassed about asking for my help with that."

"It's just—it feels awkward. I guess I'm starting to know how you felt all those years locked up with just me and the servants for company."

"Awkward… well, that's one way of putting it. And just to be sure, is there anything else you want help with?"

"I–I would like to take a bath. And wash my hair. I think I can manage on my own, but in case anything happens I—"

"Of course Elsa. It's fine. I mean, it might be a little awkward, but I meant what I said. I'm not what you want. Umm, ah, well, what I didn't say. I'm not what you want, 'cause I'm what you _need_ right now."

Elsa turned her head so Anna could see her smile. So warm and grateful. Elsa wished she'd reconnected with her sister long ago. She sighed, hoping Anna wouldn't catch the sound. She was _still_ beating herself up about that. One day, eventually, she might be able to forgive herself for that. One day at a time, Elsa silently promised herself, happy that this day was drawing to a close.

* * *

Sitting in the bath, Anna on the outside, helping to keep her upright, Elsa ran her hands through her platinum hair. It was starting to get tangled again, but that was a minor issue.

"Elsa?"

"Yes Anna?"

"I was wondering about your magic—have you tried using it to help you walk?"

"I _tried_ ," Elsa stressed the word heavily. "I couldn't make it work. I'm not sure why. And I obviously can't work the magic through my legs anymore either—you remember how I ran across the fjord."

It had had sounded like Elsa was going to say more, so Anna just nodded. Whatever else Elsa might have said, Anna never found out, her sister was holding back again. Elsa pretended to be concentrating deeply on untangling her hair, but Anna knew there was something she wasn't saying. Something about her run across the fjord. Probably still feeling guilty for it.

"So, how is this going to work?" Anna decided to change the subject. "How are you going to get dry?"

"With a towel, of course," Elsa grinned, glad her sister wasn't pressing the issue of the fjord and the midnight run. "I guess I'll sit on the edge of the bath, and you just make sure I don't fall back in while I towel myself dry. Then you help me get my nightclothes on. Again."

"El-sa," Anna whined playfully, imitating their mother's tone. "When are you going to learn to dress yourself?"

Elsa laughed. It was a reminder of her new limits, but the delivery was perfect. Anna definitely had her mother's sense of humour.

"Anna, I'm done. Can you help me out please?"

"You know, this is kind of difficult with only one arm," but Anna smiled as she said it.

"But you have enough strength in that arm for at least three people. I've seen you climbing around the castle."

"Are you trying to warn me or compliment me there Elsa?" Anna helped Elsa sit upright at the edge of the bath, pulling the plug to empty it.

"Both, I guess," Elsa said softly, wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

It was awkward, more so for Elsa than her sister, with Anna's strength to hold her up as she dried herself off. The problem was all the movement, and Anna needing to shift her position several times to keep her sister balanced. Quite a few times her hand wound up touching parts of Elsa that Anna was sure her sister would object too. Or maybe she does object, Anna considered, but she's masking her discomfort really, really well.

It wasn't long before Elsa was dressed and ready for bed. Anna wheeled Elsa back to her own room. Elsa put a hand out to tug at Anna's sleeve, the gesture surprising the younger girl, forcing her to stop.

"Is something wrong Anna?"

"No, no, I just… you reached out for me. You've been doing it in your sleep a bit—that, or stretching lots while you sleep."

"Well, I was just thinking…"

"Thinking about what?"

"If you wanted, we could share a room again."

"I'd love to Elsa, but… well, I'd have to wake up around dawn every day. I love you, Elsa. A lot—but not enough to be woken up at dawn every day for the rest of my life. There are limits to what I'll do for you."

"So you'll help me move around the kingdom, you'll help me take a bath, you'll even help me find reasons to love myself," Elsa ticked these off on her fingers. "But you won't wake up before noon to help your crippled older sister?"

"Nice try with the guilt trip," Anna knelt in front of her sister and smiled. "And it's only nine in the morning. Ten sometimes. Our schedules would be so different, what with you running the kingdom, and me doing, uhh, Princess stuff. I'd love to share a room again, but I think it might not work for too long. I'll still be right there down the hall, I'll hug you to chase away the bad dreams, I'll keep you safe and sound."

"You're sure?"

"Plus, I kinda like the way I've decorated my room. Yours is a little bland."

"Hey!"

"Plus, after the operation on my arm, I don't think it's going to be a good time for me."

"Anna, I want to be there for you."

"You will be. If it gets bad, I can find you. I've been strong on my own for so long because I had to be. It's part of me not changing. Maybe it's not the smart choice, but it's my choice."

Elsa was just rolling through the door to her room. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Okay. I respect your choice Anna, just… just… please don't push me away. Like I kept doing to you."

"I won't," Anna promised. Because I know you'll be there for me this time, she added silently. Because I can see how hard you're trying to change.

"If you change your mind—" Elsa spoke through the now closed door.

"I know where to find you. Maybe one day. It would be nice."

Dragging herself into bed, Elsa considered other reasons her sister might not want to share a room anymore. Her tired mind could only think of one—Kristoff. And frankly, Elsa didn't—couldn't—blame Anna for that. If she herself ever found anyone, Elsa was sure she wouldn't want to share a room with her sister either.

Elsa found herself holding Anna's left hand, her sister lying flat on a strange bed, the castle physician operating on her arm. His hands were bloody, and Anna was very pale. Elsa shivered when she saw the bonesaw. She looked away, but Anna squeezed her hand tight. There was so much blood. Elsa couldn't understand it. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She realized Anna was dying. Dying in her arms. It couldn't happen this way. Not again.

* * *

The scream woke Anna from a deep sleep just after midnight. It had come from Elsa's room. It sounded positively terrifying. Anna rushed through the halls, tried to open Elsa's door. Failed. She heard a quiet sobbing coming from inside, and deep, ragged breaths. Anna tried the door again. The handle was so cold it almost burned. She tried slamming into the door with her left shoulder. A slight crunch as she rebounded from the door.

Again. Anna backed off and slammed into the door full tilt. There was a crash like glass breaking, and suddenly she was skidding across an icy floor. Fractal patterns of ice covered the walls. Snow fell lazily from a cloud near the ceiling. Anna gasped in shock. Elsa's control had been so much better.

When she was awake.

Elsa was half out of the bed, curled into a ball, her legs sticking out awkwardly, sobbing uncontrollably. Anna knelt down, helped her sister to sit up, brushed the hair out of her face. Elsa didn't seem to register what was happening.

"Anna?" her voice was strangely disbelieving.

"Elsa," Anna looked around with no small degree of fear. A wave of icicles had been driven into one wall. Something was very wrong. "Elsa, I'm here. It's okay."

"I'm scared Anna. I watched you die. You died in my arms. Something was wrong—so much blood. You were—you…" Elsa's breathing became rapid and shallow. "I'm scared."

Anna hugged her sister tight, trying to remember Mama's words of wisdom. "It's okay to be scared Elsa. Just don't let it change who you are."

Elsa frowned quizzically at her sister. "So I–It was–Did I do this?"

"You were asleep," Anna soothed her sister, shivering. "I think. It must have been a nightmare or something. It's freezing in here."

Taking a deep breath, Elsa tried to calm herself. Tried to concentrate on the good. To stay in the moment. The snow began to evaporate, the cloud overhead swirling away to nothingness. The ice on the floor and walls stayed. The icicles shrank slightly in the moonlight. Elsa took another deep breath, exulting in the warmth of her sister's embrace, trying to spread that through the room. The ice on the walls retreated, the ice on the floor shrank. Elsa breathed out in relief. It was still possible to unfreeze things.

"I'm okay," Elsa's breathing was steady, even. "I'll be okay, Anna. You can go back to your room if you want."

Anna sat on the bed, arm wrapped around her sister, wavering. If she went back, she could get a good night's sleep. Wouldn't have to wake up early. If she stayed it would comfort Elsa. She could get to know her sister better; her worries, her fears. She could find a way to make things better. Anna fluffed the pillows, made sure Elsa was comfortable. It wasn't a hard decision really. She left.

By the time she got back, Elsa was sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling with relaxed breathing. Anna spread out the blankets, the pillow, and found something to use as earplugs. She was not getting up at the crack of dawn again. Not two days in a row. Anna sighed, rolling over onto her good arm, and closed her eyes.


	7. Freedom & Responsibility

Two knocks awoke Elsa. It was early morning, somewhat past dawn. She rolled over, trying to sit up. Remembered she couldn't. Dragging herself upright, Elsa thought she heard a snore. Sliding to the side of the bed, Elsa saw her sister lying on the floor in a nightmarish tangle of blankets and hair. She tried her best to suppress a laugh. Despite the awkwardness of Anna's pose, Elsa could tell her sister was sleeping soundly.

"Gerda," Elsa spoke to the door, already knowing who had knocked. "Come in, please. We'll try not to disturb Anna too much."

"At once, Queen Elsa," Gerda spoke quietly, closing the door softly behind her. "You need help in the same way as last time?"

"Yes Gerda, I do–I…"

"You have no reason to worry," Gerda assured the Queen. "What happens here, never leaves this room. It would not do for the people of Arendelle to know just how badly Hans crippled their queen."

"Thank you Gerda. Really. Thank you. I know I have no right to ask this of you."

"Hush, my Queen. I am a royal servant. As the royal family fares, so do I. You have every right to ask me. Just understand that this is discomfiting for any servant—to see their mistress in such a state, much less their queen. Both Kai and myself feel as if we have failed your mother and father, allowing you to be injured so."

"You didn't allow anything to happen Gerda," Elsa spoke calmly and quietly as Gerda helped her undress. She was trying not to disturb Anna. "You and Kai aren't responsible for what happened to me—or to Anna. The blame lies squarely with Hans… and perhaps myself."

"This was never your fault," Gerda soothed. "And we know it is not ours either. We remember the King and Queen very well. We try not to think of what seeing this happen would have done to them. We do not always succeed."

"I–I'm sorry," Elsa mumbled, not sure exactly why she was apologizing.

"Do not worry yourself, Queen Elsa. There are those who have done more for you than you know. Who would do it again, and still give of themselves. People such as Kai's brother, who cares for their father—their father who lost his legs in terrible accident during the great storm, nearly fifteen years ago. He offered to help you, your majesty. Kai politely declined on your behalf."

Elsa smiled, considering briefly what help from Kai's brother—or even Kai, might be like. The only thing she could think of was that it would be a lot more awkward than getting help from Gerda. Or Anna.

* * *

By mid-morning Elsa already felt spent. It was just something about the ever-growing pile of paperwork on her desk. She dealt with it as fast as she could, but there was always more the next day. It was entirely possible that the paperwork was somehow breeding. Given some of the byzantine laws Elsa had discovered the previous day, it didn't seem quite that ludicrous. A knock at the door shook her from her daydreams.

"Kristoff?" the ice harvester was standing in the doorway, looking a little unsure of himself.

"Have you seen Anna?" he asked suddenly. "There's something I want to show her. Just quickly."

"It's okay Kristoff," Elsa assured him. "I know. I don't think Anna has quite figured out where she stands with you however. She's always been so sure of everything. It's somewhat surprising. But if you hurt her—"

"Actually, I'm more afraid of Princess feistypants herself," Kristoff shrugged.

"Hi Kristoff. Hi Elsa. Wow, that's a lot of paper. Is that a mailbox?"

"Good morning Olaf," Elsa waved the snowman over. "Yes, it is a lot of paper. It's not a mailbox—it's my work."

"Wow. You must work really hard."

Elsa sighed. "I do. But there's always more. Olaf, can you find Anna?"

"Of course. Why, do you need her for something?"

"Hi," Kristoff waved at the snowman.

"Oh. _Oh_. Right. I'll find Anna. Bye Kristoff. Bye Elsa."

Several minutes later there came an almighty crash from the grand hall. Kristoff raced from the door, Elsa swiftly wheeling her chair behind him. Olaf's head rolled past, chased by his clumsy lower body. His torso was missing.

"Oh, look, I've gone to pieces. Somebody stop me before I get away—oh." Olaf giggled as his lower body bounced from the door at the end of the hall and skidded over backwards.

Elsa looked back through the great hall. One rogue snowman could not cause such devastation. Three suits of armour collapsed and spread across the hall. Ceremonial weapons embedded in walls. Braids sticking out of a helmet. Bright, orange braids. A groan echoed from within the helmet. Elsa had no idea how, but her sister was wearing more than half the armour from the three destroyed suits. She rushed over, halting her chair beside the pile of parts, tossing aside those she could reach.

"Anna, have you gone completely insane?!"

"I slipped," Anna's voice echoed from the helmet as she turned it right way round. "Really. I was following Olaf and… how did his arms get all the way up there?"

Elsa followed her sister's gaze. One of Olaf's arms was holding his torso to a wooden buttress, halfway to the ceiling. The other arm was crawling out of the pile of armour. Elsa looked at Anna expectantly.

"You slipped…"

"On your ice ramp. I was—"

"You were trying to use it as a slide, weren't you?" Elsa cut her sister off sternly. Her voice softened. "Anna, I just… I'm worried about you. I worry about you."

"I know you care Elsa," Anna rose slowly, extricating herself from the armour. "I see that every day. You're trying to be a better sister to me. A better person to the world. And it's working. It's just awkward—I mean I'm awkward, you're you. We're not the same as… ugh."

Anna gave up trying to articulate her thoughts. Maybe her slide into the armour had been a little reckless. Elsa hadn't seemed that mad though, more… concerned. Like a parent.

"Please, Anna, just try to be careful," Elsa tried helping her sister up. "I mean, I don't want to hold you back from having you own life, from enjoying the good times. But I also don't want to see you get hurt. I want to protect you, keep you safe."

Elsa didn't say 'to make up for nearly killing you. Twice,' but Anna heard it anyway. She patted her sister on the shoulder.

"If you're finished trying to save me for today—uh, why is Kristoff here?"

The ice harvester waved at her.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Elsa pushed her sister towards the young man, enjoying watching her blush.

"I–uh, okay. I should probably do that. Like, now. Right?" Anna turned to her sister for guidance. Elsa motioned her forwards. "Hi Kristoff, uh, why are you here today—I mean, not that there's anything wrong with you being here, and I'm just a little clumsy and the mess and did Olaf say you wanted to show me someth—am I talking to fast?"

"There is something I'd like to show you," Kristoff confirmed. "But it can wait. I really just came by to see if you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be oka—oh," Anna was beginning to see something new about the ice harvester. She still wasn't sure what it meant. What it meant to her. Her relationship with Elsa. Life around the castle. It was—well, she didn't really have words to describe it. Happily confused seemed about right though.

"I thought we could take a picnic in the fields across the fjord. Olaf could come too, if you like."

"But not the Queen?" Elsa asked, mock-imperiously.

"I–I just assumed you'd be too busy doing, uh, umm, Queen stuff to bother with a picnic with a simple ice harvester."

Elsa laughed. "Too busy for a simple ice harvester, yes. You saw all that paperwork"—Elsa waved in grandiose fashion towards the study—"but for the man who saved my sister's life. Who cared for my sister after I froze her heart. The man who kept her safe from me, who rode across a fjord to try and—I've never thanked you properly for everything you've done. I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can," Kristoff winked. "You're the Queen. You can do anything you want."

"No, I really can't," Elsa shook her head. "Even a Queen has limits. Like how much paperwork she can handle before lunch. I need to talk to a craftsman."

"While you're at it," Kristoff added slyly. "How about a new sled?"

"What?"

"Princess feistypants here is kind of the reason my old one fell off a cliff," there was a long pause. "And exploded."

Anna nodded, confirming the story, then shook her head, making a subtle hand gesture only Elsa could see.

"I can't."

"One small sled, with all the royal craftsmen, and you can't make one?" Kristoff was incensed. "Just one sled, for the man who saved your sister's life. You can't manage that?"

Anna slapped the ice harvester. "Don't talk to the Queen like that. And never talk to my sister like that again. It's not your place to question her motives."

"Ow. Fine, fine. But, something?"

"Not a sled," Elsa spoke calmly. She knew Anna wanted to surprise him, but didn't know the right time. Elsa knew she would have to give the ice harvester something truly meaningful as a mark of how much they both owed him. A title, perhaps. "When you and Anna return, this afternoon. Your 'something' will be ready."

"So, a picnic," Anna quickly changed the subject. "You, and me?"

"And Sven, or we'd never get there in time. And Olaf, if you want."

"Olaf, would you like to come on a picnic?"

"A picnic?" Olaf asked, finally putting himself together again. His torso had taken some coaxing to release its grip on the buttress. "A picnic in summer?"

"Yes, Olaf. A picnic in summer."

"Oh boy, this is going to be so much fun!" Olaf tripped over himself in his excitement. "I'll lie there in the sun, getting tanned, and you'll be there, and Sven will be there. Oh it's going to be so much fun."

* * *

And it was. For the first ten minutes. The hills overlooking the fjord, no longer covered in snow, were a beautiful backdrop to what was quickly turning into a disaster, the blanket tangled in Sven's antlers, Olaf fleeing for his life, and a single carrot rocketing down the hill. Kristoff was being dragged behind Sven, his foot caught in the reindeer's harness. Anna was chasing behind everyone, trying to keep up.

How could a simple picnic go so wrong? she asked herself. She actually had a feeling it had to do with her presence. Or possibly Olaf's. Recently both of them seemed prone to having bad things happen all around them. Anna slowed, stopped, resting her hand against her thigh, her right arm hanging like a weight. The others were too far ahead to continue pursuit. She would have to wait until they got back.

Five minutes later, they were back, everyone exhausted, but somewhat less tangled up in various picnic items. Kristoff laid the blanket down again, then tossed a carrot to Sven. The reindeer ate the whole thing.

"Uh-uh, share," the ice harvester admonished his mount. The reindeer dropped half a carrot in Kristoff's lap. Kristoff picked it up and took a bite. Anna shuddered. No matter how many times she saw that, it was… no, she told herself. Just no.

"I was wondering," Kristoff spoke idly, lying back on the blanket and staring at the sky. "Do you need any help around the castle? Does Elsa?"

"Of course we need help," Anna spoke honestly. "There's so much work, and only a handful of servants—not that you're meant to be a servant—but I mean, it's a big castle, and there's not many of us, and Elsa has this thing about people helping, and she said she—no, I said she wouldn't—anyway, yes, we need help. But I don't want your help."

Anna's face turned bright red, and she rolled face down on the blanket. Why couldn't she say things right around Kristoff. What was wrong with her?

"Wow," Kristoff replied finally. "Like that doesn't hurt or anything."

"No, I mean, I don't want your help because you're too good. I don't want you to think we're relying on you, using you just because we can. You're not that important—wait, what?"

"Not… that… important," the ice harvester repeated slowly. "Good to know."

"That's not what I meant!" Anna slammed her fist against the ground. "I mean, I think you're important, just not that way. You're meant to be more than that. I want you to be more than that. I don't want to share you, and I—"

"You don't want to share me?" Kristoff was now very confused. He knew Anna had some issues with finding the right words, or any words at times, but this was new.

"Okay, I admit it. I want you all to myself. Happy?"

"I guess. Should I be happy?"

"I don't know—hey, where did Olaf and Sven go?"

"No idea," Kristoff managed to lie quite convincingly. The quiet counting from behind a small rock gave up the game. As did the antlers sticking out the other side.

"Why do you want to be alone with me?" Anna asked, suddenly serious.

"Because I want to know you, Anna. Know what you're like. What you love. What you're afraid of. Why you never gave up on your sister. Why it is you can't figure out what we have."

"I–I don't know what we have," Anna answered. It was the honest truth. She had no idea what her relationship with Kristoff actually was at this point in time. "But I love chocolate, and I'm afraid of Elsa shutting me out again. I never gave up on her because she's my sister—the only one I'll ever have. And like I said, I can't figure out what we have, because I don't know what it is—was this meant to be a date?"

"Maybe," Kristoff changed the subject abruptly. "We should head back. Lunch was nice, but I want to know what Elsa got for me."

"It's not that late," Anna countered, stretching out under the sun. "And I have something for you too, when we get back."

* * *

Anna couldn't remember much of the picnic by the time they got back to the castle. They had just lain in the sun—it was a glorious day—and talked. That was it. That was enough. She was starting to understand Kristoff, starting to understand her feelings for him. The ice harvester was rougher, cruder, and less personable than Hans. Anna didn't count those as major problems however, for two reasons. First, Kristoff was honest—at least as honest as it was reasonably possible for a person to be. Secondly, Kristoff didn't have any devious plans, ulterior motives, or hidden agendas. He was exactly what he told you he was. Much like Anna herself.

"Put this on," Anna handed Kristoff a blindfold as they neared the castle. "I have a surprise for you."

Anna was nearly skipping through the streets of Arendelle, leading Kristoff by the hand. She was surprised how willing he was to trust her judgement.

Clang. "Ow. Pole."

"Sorry," Anna apologized, wincing, impressed Kristoff didn't try to remove the blindfold—or let go of her hand. In moments they had arrived at their destination. Anna let his hand fall, helping remove the blindfold. She stepped aside, holding her arm out to indicate he should be looking at what she was pointing at.

A magnificent sled, painted dark blue with mahogany trim. A stylized snowflake was painted on the front. A single bow decorated the front. A matching bow wrapped the lute sitting against the backrest. Kristoff's jaw dropped.

"It's the latest model and everything. It even has cup holders. That's good, right?" Anna asked excitedly.

"I–I can't," Kristoff stammered. So this was why Elsa had refused to grant him a new sled—because Anna already had.

"You have to. Queen's orders," Anna's stern voice became much more mellow. "Do you like it?"

"Like it? I _love_ it!" Kristoff swept Anna off the ground and twirled her around as he spoke. "I could kiss you! I could. I mean, I'd like to. I–may I? We me? I mean, may we—wait, what?"

"We may," Anna reached up to plant a kiss on the ice harvester's cheek. Just seeing him happy made her feel much better—although she honestly hadn't been feeling bad, she just felt… better. Kristoff leaned down, brushing his lips against Anna's. The redheaded princess relaxed into the kiss. She felt warm inside, kind of fuzzy. Better overall. Was this what love was supposed to feel like?

They broke apart awkwardly several moments later. Kristoff was blushing slightly. "I–I guess I owe you an apology for this morning. You and the Queen."

"Me and _Elsa_ ," Anna corrected.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk this morning. I should have known better. I just—uh, I really need a sled, or my business goes nowhere."

"We knew it was important to you," Anna assured the ice harvester. "That's why we asked the master craftsmen to make this their priority for the past few days. They still had things to repair all over the place, but this was more important. _You_ were more important. There, I said it—wait, what?"

" _I_ was more important?" Kristoff was still a little confused. It was clear now that Anna liked him—the feeling was of course mutual. It wasn't clear quite how much she liked him, or even if she knew herself. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't asked that question. "Actually, never mind. I'm important to you, you're important to me. That's what matters, right?"

Anna nodded, glad the conversation hadn't suddenly devolved into another series of her verbal gaffes. She didn't have a lot of friends to talk to, or to tell her not to talk. Or what not to say in front of guys she really liked. She'd learned a few things over the past week though, especially through Hans's treachery, and Kristoff's awkwardly blunt honesty. An honesty she found quite endearing.

"If I'm going to apologize to the Quee—to Elsa, I'll need to get into the castle."

"Oh, right. Wait, how _have_ you been getting in?"

"Your servants, mostly. I simply ask if the Queen has time for an audience—or if you're available to speak with. I think they like the idea of having more people around the castle. Especially people who aren't trying to kill Arendelle's Queen, and her beautiful, feisty sister."

"Um, uh, thanks," Anna blushed slightly, then started walking away. Kristoff stood there. "Aren't you coming?"

The ice harvester hurried to catch up. They eventually found Elsa buried in a massive pile of paperwork, rime ice coating the edges of the desk, the windowsill, and most of the skirting boards.

"Anna, Kristoff!" Elsa's smile was disproportionately warm. "Thank the heavens you're here. I can't do this. All this, this… paperwork. It's driving me mad. I thought I could handle it, delegate some of the more minor issues to Kai and… oh, it's a royal mess. I need help Anna. I really do."

Anna stared at her sister, uncomprehending.

"Obviously not the real Elsa," Kristoff whispered. "I'll distract her, you run."

Anna just stood there. One arm hanging limp, the other a dead weight. She was completely expressionless. Had her sister just asked for help— _her_ help— _to run the kingdom?_ Asked for help in front of another person, no less. Slowly, as the frost in the room gradually retreated, it dawned on her, and Anna realized just how much responsibility had been laid across her sister's shoulders. The frost covering the desk should have been the giveaway that Elsa was losing it, even just a little.

"How did Papa _ever_ manage all this?" Elsa asked hopelessly, throwing her arms wide. "It's impossible. I've tried everything, but the paper just keeps coming back. I think they're breeding overnight. Or something. Anna—Anna, are you listening?"

"Oh, uhm, you're losing it because of _paperwork?_ "

"And the visits, and disputes to settle. Families to greet," Elsa sighed. "And I thought the number of people at the coronation ball was bad enough. At least two dozen people come through this office every day, looking for help, to settle feuds, asking about work, making enquiries about my condition, offering up some very creative insults for severely damaged crops, or buildings, or other things my storm battered. And I'm scared Anna, afraid of losing control. What if someone actually makes me angry? What if I snap? Again. I'm trying to keep everything in check, to keep my powers under control—but not trying to hide them anymore—but it's hard. Harder than I thought it would be. There's so much pressure to do right, to be right, to be—perfect. And I'm not. I'm just… me."

Anna walked over to her sister, perched on the edge of the desk, eliciting an angry sigh from Elsa as a stack of papers toppled sideways.

"You're just you…" Anna almost laughed. "I mean, it's not funny, but there's no 'just' about you Elsa. You're incredible. Smart. Beautiful. Kind. Loyal. What's so scary anyway? I'm sure you wouldn't hurt anyone. Again. And, oh… I see where this is going. You need to—I think you should—We, _we_ , need to hire some people to help us. I know Papa didn't rule alone—he had Mama, and they had Gerda and Kai to look after us when they weren't around, and the nanny, and the other servants to help them, and—I'm talking too much again. Elsa?"

Elsa sighed heavily, trying to banish the last of the ice. It wasn't playing nice. "You're right Anna, we need help. I—well, you know I have problems asking for help. I don't want to seem weak in front of you, in anyone's eyes really. I need to be strong to be the Queen, firm, yet kind, capable of anything. Maybe not the best phrase, considering what 'anything' did to the fjord. But you're right, absolutely. We need help. I need help to save the kingdom of Arendelle from what I've done—cutting trade with Wesealtown has hurt us financially, and sending Hans back to the Southern Isles as prisoner may come back to bite us, but what's done is done. Now we all have to live with the consequences."

"You stinker," Anna waved an admonishing finger at her sister. "Here I am, having helped you for the last three days, through everything, and you _still_ think you _have_ to do this all alone. If you'd just told me you were having problems like this, I'd help."

"But you hate paperwork. You kept saying you'd be terrible at running a kingdom. And you hate being bored, and most of this paperwork is very, very boring. I mean some of it is sending _me_ to sleep, just trying to read it."

"If you need help, I'm here for you," Anna explained patiently. "I meant it. Whatever you need help with, I'll do my very best to help you. I might not get it right all the time, but I'll be there, when you need me. I'll be at your side, helping keep you up—umm, upright? Standing tall? I'll be there. For you, Elsa. For you. Because you're my sister, and I love you. More than you'll ever know."

Tears were forming at the corners of Elsa's eyes. She felt so weary. So alone. Isolated from everyone, even when they were together, the distance of their past shadowed her thoughts. She was trying to earn Anna's love, a love her sister gave of herself so freely. A love Elsa still felt she didn't deserve. A flurry of snow suddenly covered the desk, knocking the sheets of paper flying. Elsa felt an arm around her shoulders. Felt the warmth of Anna's body, heard her breath, soft and shallow. There was no one else in the room. Suddenly everything was blurry. Elsa hugged her sister. It didn't matter who saw them now. There was _no one_ else in Elsa's world.


	8. Lost

**Trigger Warnings for **Blood/Gore**** (surgery based, c. 1840's)

* * *

Elsa took a few minutes to compose herself after Anna released her. Deep, calming breaths, letting the love she felt for her sister thaw the room, banish the ice and snow. She needed to find Kristoff—she had decided on what his reward would be: an official title. After a short search, Elsa found Kai, who informed her that Kristoff had tactfully left somewhat earlier 'to allow Princess Anna time with her sister'. Elsa sighed. She would have to give Kristoff his due next time he came to visit. She returned to the study.

Anna was picking up the papers scattered around the floor, trying to put them in tidy piles on the desk, looking unsure exactly as to which papers went where. She read a few lines off one silently.

"I can't believe people would say that about you!" she said angrily, squinting at the paper. "Wait, is that a 'B' or an 'S'?"

Elsa wheeled herself over to look at the scrap of paper. "It's a 'B'. And some of those have called me a lot worse things."

"But the people… Elsa, they have no right to say things like that about you."

"Actually," Elsa corrected her sister. "They do. Sort of. Less insults would be nice, but if they couldn't voice their opinions—and know they'd been heard, I'd probably be deposed within a week. You saw what I did to the kingdom. Just one more thing to atone for. Now it's getting kind of late, are you okay to see the physician?"

Anna nearly swore. "I forgot about that. I was having fun with Kristoff, well, talking and showing off the sled. Now I'm here helping you, and maybe I'm just easily distracted."

"I don't blame you Anna. I wouldn't want to think about something like that too much either—but I am, because it's partly my fault, and because I'm going to be there. By your side."

"I don't know if I'm ready," Anna spoke softly. "But I have to go. As long as you're there, everything's going to be fine, right?"

Elsa nodded, gently taking her sister's hand and leading her from the room. They made very slow progress to the physician's study. Anna kept checking to make sure Elsa was following in her wheelchair. Elsa kept motioning for Anna to continue forwards. It was nearly sundown by the time they made it to the study. The gas lamps outside the castle burned brightly in the near darkness. The lights within the castle were similarly aglow.

Anna looked around the study anxiously. She hadn't expected to see so many people. The physician himself, obviously, but the other three?

"My assistants," the physician pointed to each of them in turn. "Masters Joachim and Yrso, and doctor Solveig, of the Northlands. They are here to assist with the amputation. If you wish, I can explain the procedure to you, though you may not like to know the detail."

"Elsa tried explaining it," Anna said timidly. "But all I could tell was that it would hurt, and that my arm would be gone."

"Essentially correct, but it is more than that," the physician launched into a proper explanation. "The first act we must perform is to find the arteries that supply the blood to your forearm, then we must ligate—tie off—these blood vessels, in much the same way as I did earlier for your lower arm. Once this is complete we will transect—cut through—the muscle of your upper arm. This is the part likely to hurt the most. There will be blood, and quite an amount, as we cannot ligate all the minor blood vessels of your arm—it would take too long, and make little difference to the end result."

Both Anna and Elsa shivered. Hearing the procedure described so clearly—in such clinical detail—was somehow foreboding. Neither woman told the physician to stop, however. thus, he continued with the explanation.

"After the muscle has been transected around the entire arm we must then sever the bone. Here is where my assistants become truly useful. While you might be able to hold your arm steady while the muscle is cut, you would never be able to do so while the saw hacks through the bone. Thus, two of my assistants hold your arm straight and steady. The third holds you down. There are many stories of patients running, starting, screaming, thrashing, or otherwise moving around in ways that make completing the procedure safely an impossible task."

"Is that all?" Anna asked, shaking slightly.

"No, it is not," the physician replied matter-of-factly. "Once the bone has been cut, the jagged end must be filed down and smoothed, in much the same way a carpenter smooths the wood with which he works. The remaining muscle and skin is then wrapped around the bone, and must be sutured—sewn—into place, to ensure the stump heals correctly. Then, and only then, will your arm be bandaged, to speed the healing process."

Elsa reached out to take Anna's hand. The younger woman started at the touch, then slipped her hand in Elsa's. Elsa could feel her sister's heart racing. Anna stood still, taking in a deep breath. Two. Three.

"I—I'm ready," she announced at last.

"Then you should lie on the bed," the physician directed Anna, helping Elsa around to the far side, out of the way, but next to her sister. "Take another deep breath, this will hurt."

Anna gasped in shock, her arm twitching back as the cold steel blade cut through her flesh. She felt the blade slide deep inside her arm, could feel her arm spasming against it. She was surprised the physician could even hold on to the blade. She glanced sideways and saw the two assistants holding her arm steady. She hadn't even felt them take hold after the first twitch. And there was blood. A bright red trail of it running down her bicep. She looked away quickly, screwing her eyes shut at the pain.

Anna felt something cut through a vital part of her arm. A cold steel blade. Felt something else invade the wound. A terrifying moment of feeling her arm awash with her own blood. Then the bleeding stopped. Anna dared to peek at what it was—a tiny tube, bright red, and the physician was tying very fine thread around it, clamping it off. It was only the first of many, Anna understood. She turned to look at her sister.

Elsa was pale, almost deathly so. Anna had never seen such a frightened look on her sister's face. It scared her.

"Elsa—" Anna screamed against the pain, breathing quickly, speaking very fast. "Elsa, what's wrong."

"The… it's…" Elsa was lost for words. Anna stared into her sister's icy blue eyes. "Blood. I—Anna, I'm scared."

"I—" Screaming. Elsa looked at the floor as Anna's grip tightened. "—Why, Elsa? What is—" Anna screwed her eyes shut, screaming as she felt the blade plunge deep into her arm once again. Her breathing suddenly became shallow, and her eyelids fell.

"Anna?" Elsa squeezed her sister's hand. She didn't squeeze back. "Anna? Anna? What's wrong with her?!"

"She fainted. From the pain, your majesty," doctor Solveig spoke, handing another clamp to the physician. "It is not unexpected. The pain from this procedure is most intense, and few people remain awake throughout. Many wish they were not awake at all—and there are stories of strange gases being used to sedate patients in distant lands, but we know not if they are safe."

"I see," Elsa spoke calmly, but her mind was in turmoil. Her heart was breaking. She could see, finally _see_ , all the damage that Hans's sword had done to her sister. An injury she was at least partially responsible for. Elsa choked back the bile rising in her throat. There was nothing she could do to alleviate her sister's pain. All she could do was be there—and Elsa didn't know how long she could keep that up. She felt so helpless.

Anna's eyes fluttered opened, and she mouthed a silent scream before taking in everything that was happening. Tears were streaming from her eyes. She could see the heartbreak on her sister's face. Before she could say anything she felt a larger blade carve into the flesh of her upper arm. The pain was beyond anything she'd ever known. It felt wrong that she should even be aware of it. But she was. She could feel the blade sliding backwards, freeing a flap of skin. Her feverish mind couldn't recall why it was necessary.

Anna saw the uncertainty in Elsa's face, inches from her own. Elsa might have been whispering something in her ear, but Anna's universe was only pain. Pain and darkness. She screamed in pain, and the darkness rose to claim her once more. Anna came to moments—or an eternity—later. She couldn't tell. The pain was still there. The sticky feeling of blood running down her arm, splashing against some liquid on the floor. She still couldn't look. But she could focus on Elsa's face. Her beautiful sister trying to comfort her.

"Elsa, it's going to be"—screaming—"it'll be alright. You're"—another scream. Elsa's face darkened with fear—"You're here. With me. You'll stay, right"—a much more subdued scream, a pleading, begging kind of sound—"stay here. For me?"

That cut right to the quick. Elsa knew her sister wasn't blaming her for anything, but it was as if she knew what Elsa was about to do. What she wanted to do. It was almost too much for her to handle, Queen or not. Perhaps it was worse, with the added responsibility of being Queen.

"The… blood…" Elsa repeated blankly, gesturing at Anna's nearly severed arm. The younger woman never turned away, locking her eyes with Elsa's. "The dream—"

"Just. Dream," Anna panted. Her arm felt—loose, detached. She couldn't feel much of it at all. Except the pain. The pain always stayed. "Hurts. So much. Elsa. Stay. Please!"

Elsa watched the tears cascade from Anna's eyes. She knew they weren't just from the pain she was in. Anna was afraid. Afraid Elsa would leave. Shut her out. Again. Because Anna's hurt wasn't as deep as Elsa's was. Like the day of their parents funeral. Elsa's hurt had been so deep she couldn't move. She'd been resting against that door since the previous morning. And here she was—Elsa caught herself at that. No matter how deeply it hurt to see Anna in pain like this, she would _not_ run from it. Not again.

Elsa held her sister's hand and stroked her fiery hair. "I'm here Anna. I'm going to stay."

"Thank you. Mean it. Just. Hurting. My arm?" Anna's gaze was still locked on to her sister's eyes. She couldn't look away. Didn't want to. Didn't want to see what was happening. If she couldn't see it, it wasn't real. But the pain… the pain was real. Anna gasped, feeling something nick the bone—the flesh around the bone—in her upper arm. She still couldn't look. Elsa could.

It was like small sleeve of bloody flesh, pulled back to reveal the rough whiteness of a bone. Elsa was aghast. She had never seen so much blood. It didn't make sense to her that Anna was still alive. It seemed like so much, covering most of her arm, the side of her dress, and—Elsa assumed—most of the bed. She hadn't noticed the bucket on the floor to catch it.

"Anna?" Elsa whispered.

No answer.

"Anna?" louder.

"Elsa?" Anna asked in return, her voice strangely childlike. "Why can't I feel my arm?"

Before Elsa could reply, Anna turned. She screamed in terror, turning back to Elsa in helpless confusion. Fresh tears were welling at the corner of her eyes. "Did I get hurt?"

"Yes."

"Was it—" Anna screamed as she turned to look at it again. "Was bad?"

"Yes."

"Hurt you too?"

Elsa had no choice. She had to lie. In her current state it was unlikely Anna would understand much. "No. I'm fine. Worried about you."

"Good. Good," Anna patted her sister on the shoulder. "You stay. Good sist—" Another scream. "Hurts. Good Elsa. Nice sister. Sleep now."

Anna fainted again. The physician reached for the saw, motioning for doctor Solveig to hold Anna down, just in case. Elsa absently stroked her sister's hair, trying to ignore the grinding sound of the saw, the way the physician was panting with exertion. All she wanted was for Anna to be safe. Safe and whole. But she never would be again. Elsa didn't know how to process that. She wanted to run, to leave the pain behind. Wanted to be alone, to try and process everything. _Wanted_ to.

No, she told herself. I'm better than that. I can do this.

But not without Anna.

Then she realized what the problem—her own problem—really was. She had been secretly hoping, wishing that all this would magically go away. That things could be the way they were before. That nothing would have changed, except that Anna knew about her powers, and she had Anna back. Seeing the physician remove Anna's arm… it made it real. It meant it was impossible for things to go back. She thought she'd put the past behind her on the North Mountain, but it had a way of coming back to haunt her.

Anna's fingers slipped free of Elsa's grip. The older sister exhaled in shock. Then Anna pointed at something, sounding surprised. "Is… is my arm?"

"Yes."

"Why gone? Hurt?"

"Yes. Hurt very bad."

"You okay Elsie?"

"Elsie?"

"Big sister. Elsie. Is okay, right?"

"I'm fine," Elsa was lying to her sister again.

"Good. You be fine. Help get arm later. Stealing it. Steal it back."

The rest of Anna's talk was mostly gibberish, but Elsa humoured her with smiles and nods while the physician sutured flesh over the stump, and finally bound it in heavy bandages.

"Princess Anna will be delirious for some time. The pain has done it to her mind. It would be best if she is accompanied until morning, at the very least. Do not move her too fast. If the bleeding has not stopped within half an hour, see me at once."

"Okay Princess feistypants," Elsa used Kristoff's nickname for her sister. "Time for bed."

"Don't wanna," Anna protested, following her sister anyway. "Not tired. Lied to me. Wheelchair. You hurt too."

"I didn't want to scare you. Can we talk about this in the morning?"

"Morning?" Anna's words were slurring. "Morning. Talk. Sleepy. Bedtime?"

"Yes, bedtime," Elsa took her sister's left hand, and helped lead her back through the castle, to her own room. When she'd proposed sharing a room again, Elsa had never considered the she might move into Anna's room. It was actually a very nice room, much more warmly decorated than her own. Messier too, but that was Anna. Gerda helped where she could, but mess and clutter seemed to be somehow spontaneously generated by Anna's room. Gerda was there now, helping to tuck Anna in for a good night's sleep. There to help Elsa get changed, get ready for bed.

"Gerda, I plan to sleep here tonight. The physician recommended someone accompany Anna until morning."

"Very well Queen Elsa. Do you wish to be awakened at dawn again?"

"No, Gerda. Not tomorrow. I'll sleep in with Anna—if she sleeps."

"I understand," Gerda clasped her hands and nodded once.

It wasn't much later when Elsa was tucked in next to Anna. It seemed such a silly thing to request. She was old enough to—well, it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was sharing a bed with her sister. Anna had asked her stay, and Elsa intended to make good on that promise. It was the least she could do. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had tucked her in. What had she been? Eight? Ten?

It had been Papa, of course. She wished he were here now. She wished she really did have his wisdom and strength. Anna had all of Mama's warmth and compassion, and Papa's determination. Elsa sighed, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She never even got to say goodbye. Anna shifted, rolling onto her stump and gasping in pain, facing Elsa. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Elsa… sad?" she asked, tracing her sister's tears with her remaining hand.

"Thinking about Papa," Elsa replied softly. "And Mama too. I never said goodbye."

"Want to… want to sing?" Anna asked quietly. "Lullaby?"

"I—" Elsa choked up. She couldn't think of what else to say. Maybe it was time she made her peace with it. At least for a little while. "A lullaby."

So, lying in the dark, the stars shining through the window, and tears in their eyes, the sisters of Arendelle sang. Tonight they weren't Queen and Princess. They weren't nobles. They weren't Anna and Elsa. They were two little girls. Two little girls who had lost their parents far too soon.

Elsa sang, tears streaming down her face.

An ache  
So deep  
That I  
Can hardly breathe  
This pain  
Can't be imagined  
Will it ever heal?  
Ooh... ooh...

Anna sang, pulling her sister close.

My hand  
So small  
Held a strand of your hair  
So strong  
All I could do  
Was keep believing  
Was that enough?

Together, they sang, their voices almost breaking.

Is anyone there?

I wanna scream  
Is this a dream?  
How could this happen,  
Happen to me?  
This isn't fair  
This nightmare  
This kind of torture  
I just can't bear  
I want you here  
I want you here  
Ooh... ooh...

We waited so long  
For you to come  
Then you weren't home  
And we knew you'd gone  
We were not prepared  
For you to leave  
Oh this misery

Are you still there?

Papa, I want you here  
Mama, I want you here  
We were strong  
But now you're gone  
All we have  
All we've known  
All we wanted  
Was you

All along

Elsa reached for Anna, pulled her close. She was crying into Anna's shoulder. Anna sniffled at hers. A shadow crept over them. Elsa looked about the room. Rime ice covered the walls. Starlight reflected and refracted off something in the middle of the room. Two shapes, heartbreakingly familiar. For an instant Elsa hoped they would move, but she knew they never would. Her powers… what she wanted… she wished her control was better.

"Mama, Papa?" Anna asked, staring at the icy statues. "No…"

"It's—I just—Anna?" Elsa looked at her sister, trying to figure out what, exactly, she should be saying.

"I–I miss them too Elsa. So much. Just… just leave them be. Your ice is amazing. Sleep," and then Anna did something Elsa never expected. She kissed her on the cheek, stroking her hair gently. Just the way Mama used to when they were little. It was too much. Elsa had dragged herself half out of the bed before she realized what she was doing. No, she told herself. I am _not_ running away. Not this time. Not again.

Anna was already asleep, breathing steadily. Elsa wriggled back under the covers. She knew, absolutely _knew_ , that she did not deserve a sister like Anna. The way she'd been acting, the way she'd nearly killed her sister—twice—and the way Anna was still willing to forgive her. To fight for her—for _them_. Elsa just could not understand a love that deep. It was… she sighed heavily, new tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. Elsa didn't know what it was. Not anymore.

So she lay there, crying quietly, one arm around her sister, until sleep reached out to claim her.


	9. Roles & Titles

Morning found the sisters of Arendelle embracing under the covers of Anna's bed. Elsa woke slowly, her eyes gummed with sleep. For once, the dreams had not come. She felt safe. Warm. _Loved_. As her eyes opened she saw Anna's face less than an inch from her own. Eyes closed, breathing steadily, the red-haired princess was fast asleep. Her remaining arm was wrapped tightly around Elsa. And, Elsa finally noticed, holding part of her it really shouldn't have been.

Elsa shifted under the covers, trying to extricate herself without waking her sister. She was eventually forced to simply push Anna away, shifting her sister sideways. Hands ended up in places Elsa was sure Anna would have objected to had she been awake. It wasn't her fault that that was the only place she could find that also let her have leverage against the sheets as well.

Anna awoke with a start. Elsa could tell simply because the sheets rocketed away from them. It was as if her sister had suddenly turned into a catapult.

"Elsa?" Anna blinked, sleep fogging her mind.

"Yes?"

"You're in my bed?"

"Yes."

" _Why_ are you in my bed?"

"To keep you safe. To watch you, while your arm heals."

Anna looked down, to her right, and had to stifle a scream. "M–my a–arm?"

"On the ice," Elsa began to explain patiently. "Hans struck you. His sword slashed through your arm. Across my back. The physicians couldn't save your arm."

"But you… okay?"

"No, Anna, I'm not. I might never—"

"Yes!" Elsa was confused about her sister's sudden shout of triumph. Surely Anna hadn't become that sadistic overnight. The younger woman smiled, still talking to the room. "Elsa opened up to me."

"Anna, are you actually awake?"

There was much blinking and yawning. Eventually Anna's eyes brightened with understanding and memory. Her arm. Elsa's legs. Life at the castle. Kristoff. Sven. Olaf.

"No, no, it's fine," Anna yawned. "I've been awake for hours."

"Anna, I'm right here."

The younger sister yawned again. "Oh. Umm. I—Thank you."

"For what?"

"For staying," Anna was finally feeling her brain start to work. "For being here. Sleeping with me—I mean, not that I think anything happened—we're sisters, but… thank you. I know it can't have been easy for you. Hey, what happened to the statues?"

Elsa looked at the foot of the bed. The ice sculptures she had made accidentally through the night were gone, although a thin dusting of snow still covered room. "I don't know Anna. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Elsa, it's okay," Anna hugged her sister, red hair falling everywhere. She wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words.

Shuffling back, Elsa propped herself up on a pillow, gently pushing Anna away. They would both need to get ready for the day. Elsa felt a subtle dread rising within her at the prospect of doing so much more paperwork. She knew Papa had managed it almost effortlessly. At least, it had _looked_ effortless. Elsa knew now that that was probably a facade, for her benefit. Another thought occurred to her. A much more painful thought. She had to let it out.

"Anna?" her voice was tentative, afraid, full of heartfelt sorrow. "I don't know where their graves are."

The red haired Princess of Arendelle stared at her sister in disbelief. Her frown softened into an expression of sorrow and understanding. She was finally starting to realize how much effort it took Elsa to say things like that. To let herself feel. To show other people she was capable of feeling.

"I can take you later, if you'd like," Anna spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you," Elsa reached up to hug her sister—couldn't quite reach. Anna leaned over and wrapped her in a warm hug.

"Nearly three years…" Anna let her voice trail off. "I take them something every year. A flower for Mama, a stone for Papa."

"A… stone?" Elsa was confused. What sort of significance could a stone have. They were everywhere, in fields, on the road, occasionally falling off the sides of buildings.

"Othala, Eiwahz, Inguz."

"Home, Yew Tree, Fertility?" Elsa questioned her sister's understanding of the runes.

"May your hearth be blessed with family for all time," Anna explained.

Elsa nearly collapsed into the covers. How did Anna _know_ these things. It was as if her sister knew exactly what was most likely to make her want to cry and smile and hit her all at the same time. It didn't matter that Anna's interpretation of the runes was incorrect—what mattered was that it was _hers_. The runes held special meaning to her. Which made them special to Papa. Made the act of placing a stone significant. An act of remembrance, of solace.

Pushing herself up into a reasonable imitation of a sitting position, Elsa took her sister's hand. She could feel Anna almost flinch away from the contact. Almost. Elsa placed her other hand on Anna's shoulder.

"Anna," she spoke solemnly, and the red haired princess's face flushed with concern. "I need you to promise me something."

"What is it Elsa?"

"When we visit their—visit our parents' graves. Just… I… don't let me run from the pain. Make sure I don't hide."

"How on earth am I supposed to be able to do that?" Anna stared skeptically at her sister. "I know you've been trying to open up, I really do. You're just—you're very good at running. Umm, ahh, I mean, you can run really—arghhh!"

Anna shook her hand in frustration and slapped her forehead. How could she be so insensitive? To her own _sister_? But Elsa was laughing. Heartily. Anna could feel herself blushing. What could Elsa possibly be laughing at when she'd just been forcibly—insultingly—reminded of something she couldn't do. Could never do again. Getting her rising panic under control, Anna asked her sister what, exactly, was so very funny.

"You," came the reply. "Just… oh, the look on your face when you realized what you were sayi—what the… oww. I'm not mad Anna. Really, I'm not. If I can laugh at myself sometimes, that's healthy right?"

Anna could only nod. She had just slapped her sister, adding injury to insult, but the mark had already faded. She was impressed Elsa hadn't tried to hit her back. But Elsa had always had more self control, better composure.

"This—" Elsa gestured to her legs, the fact they weren't moving "—is part of who I am now. Just like you are."

"I'm a part of… who you are?"

"Like it or not, Princess feistypants, you've managed to change me."

"For the better," it wasn't a question.

"And if you're willing to help, I'd like to change again."

Anna stared at her sister, then at where she was pointing. There was a regal looking dress, royal purple, black sleeves, embroidered gold trim, and a midnight blue cape with beautiful rosemaling in an ice motif. All of these were resting on a dress maker's mannequin. A similar dress was laid over a second mannequin, rendered in a rich forest green, with no sleeves, and a much more restrained cape of viridian with traditional rosemaling around the tail.

"Umm, Elsa?" Anna pointed at the dresses, unsure of what, exactly, they meant.

"I'm granting Kristoff a title today. My gift to him for saving your life. You wouldn't miss a party like that, would you?"

"Party…?"

"Okay, it's just a small, official ceremony. A few witnesses, that's all."

"Well… okay. Hey, your cape… isn't kind of… umm—is it going to get in the way?"

"I'm not wearing it," Elsa confided. "But most of my old wardrobe appears to require any dress for official ceremonies to have a cape."

Anna laughed, helping drag Elsa out of bed with her good arm.

"Elsa, I know you said you couldn't walk with your magic, but can you stand?"

"Of course not," Elsa sank into her newly conjured chair. "My legs don't work anymore."

"No, no. I meant by using your magic. Can you use it to just keep your legs still, keep your balance?"

"I… don't know," Elsa finally admitted. "I hadn't thought to try that."

"Well?" Anna asked expectantly, lifting her sister from the chair.

Ice crept up Elsa's legs like curling vines, wrapping them in gossamer sheets of crystallized water. Runners like the pleats of a dress shot from Elsa's waist towards the floor, seeming to anchor her. Ice encased her feet like thick boots, and Elsa smiled, motioning for Anna to let her go. For a second, two, three, she stood. There was a soft crack. One of the runners fell away. Another crack. Another and another. Elsa's hands shot out, recreating the anchors almost as quickly as they vanished. It took a lot of concentration not to ice over the whole room.

Making the anchoring ice thicker didn't seem to help. Elsa fought for several more seconds before an ear-splitting crack rent the air. In an instant she was on the floor, nursing a badly bruised arm, Anna looking down at her, shocked, arm still held out to catch her. Elsa took a minute to collect her breath, slowly dragging herself towards the chair she had conjured earlier.

"It's hard Anna," she explained as the younger woman looked expectantly at her. "It took most of my concentration just to balance properly. With a lot—I mean probably months, at least—of practice, I might be able to do it for a few minutes. It's not exactly subtle, either. People would see. Would know exactly what I was doing. I'm not sure if they'd pity me for it, or resent me, or just laugh."

"Maybe they'd admire you for your bravery?" Anna offered. "See that you're willing to fight for something you really want. And if you fall… people won't laugh at you. They'll help you up. Show you that you don't have to stand alone."

"This isn't just about my injuries, is it?"

"I'm just trying to say I'm here for you Elsa, you can use me any way you—wait, what's so funn—oh, and you used to say _I_ had a dirty mind!"

Elsa laughed. "If we're done teasing each other, maybe we should get our morning… tasks… out of the way, and get dressed for breakfast."

"Mmmm, breakfast," Anna smiled as she wheeled her sister towards the bathroom. "Hey, why didn't Gerda wake us up earlier?"

"Because I asked her not to."

"You asked her not to," Anna repeated absently, the words not sinking in. "You asked her not to."

"You needed sleep. Rest. I wasn't going to risk disturbing that. Risk leaving you. I want to spend more time with you. Get to know you better. You'll probably be tired for a few days, but that's okay, I'm willing to sleep with you until—oh, stop giggling."

* * *

The morning proceeded apace from that point, the sisters enjoying a hearty breakfast, breaking from tradition by eating in the conservatory on the second floor instead of the dining room. The view across the fjord was spectacular. Olaf wandered through, greeted the sisters, and then left again. Anna's eyebrow rose in a silent question. Elsa merely shrugged. Neither of them actually knew what the little snowman got up to while they weren't around. From most reports they heard, mischief.

The ceremony granting Kristoff his title was held in the chapel. A place neither of the sisters had visited since coronation day. Five days ago. It was strange then, that the distance in time felt closer to years than days. Elsa kept her eyes on the dais as they approached. Anna turned her head left and right, taking everything in as she wheeled her sister forward. It seemed strange to her that nothing in this building had changed—and yet almost everything in _her_ had. She was looking at everything under a new light.

Anna was looking at her sister under a new light too. She had always felt vaguely jealous of Elsa's stunning appearance. A beauty that seemed as effortless and natural—and as dangerous—as a snow capped mountain. The dress Elsa had chosen to wear today was remarkably demure, very queenly. While it did, indeed, accentuate her curves and draw attention to her body, it did so without exposing an inch of flesh unnecessarily. Anna wondered just how a dress like that even worked—and if that thought even made sense.

Her own dress was rather more daring. Maybe not so much as the somewhat frozen and—slightly—damaged coronation dress she had left at Oaken's, but it was looser, freer, off the shoulder with a daring yet restrained neckline. Anna considered a better description of the neckline… teasing. Just as she was prone to do. It was going to be a challenge to pull off some of her old tricks with only one arm, Anna glanced at the bandage covering the stump of her right arm. Some of her old tricks might even be impossible now—but that didn't mean she wasn't at least going to try them.

She almost missed Kristoff arriving. It wasn't that he normally made an entrance, it was just… if she hadn't known better, Anna could have sworn the uniformed young man that walked in was an actual noble. The slight slouch, the scruffy hair, the little smirk when he saw her. Well, Anna considered, her ice harvester cleaned up very nicely indeed. Although he did still smell slightly of reindeer when he got closer.

"Kristoff!" she waved with her left arm, her right side out of view from him. "Wow. You look amazing. Really handsome. I could kiss you–I will. Later. After things, and… oh, this feels so awkward."

Kristoff adjusted the collar of his jacket in a not-so-subtle manner. "Awkward. Very. Anna, how do people _wear_ these things?"

Anna heard her sister stifle a laugh. "Well normally they're tailored. For most royals anyway. They fit better, and normally… I don't know, people are trained to live in them."

Elsa spoke up then. "Most ceremonial clothing is quite impractical, mister Bjorgman. Royals wear these clothes to impress other nobles, although I've wondered sometimes if it isn't simply a contest to see which man can out-stubborn the other in the more impractical clothes. What you have on is a ceremonial uniform for the Palace Guard. You're also meant to be wearing another two layers of clothing underneath that."

"So I can add slowly steaming in my own juices to the list of indignities this suit puts me through?"

"You don't like cleaning up like that, my valiant reindeer king?"

"No."

"Too bad," Anna spoke sharply. "Because I do. You don't know how good you look in that uniform. Like a real king. Almost."

Anna could hear her sister's barely suppressed laughter. Okay, so Kristoff stood for almost everything a king wasn't. The laughter wasn't what held his attention though. He had finally moved close enough to see Anna's right side. Anger burned in his eyes, with an intensity that gave the red-headed princess chills.

"If that monster ever shows his face in Arendelle again—"

"He will answer to _me_ ," Elsa cut in, her tone pure ice. All three of them felt the temperature drop suddenly. Elsa made to apologize, but a swift gesture from Kristoff stopped her. He understood that Elsa's claim against Hans stemmed not from her royalty, but from her _family_. Anna was Kristoff's friend—maybe even girlfriend—but she was Elsa's sister. A bond of blood that gave Elsa first rights at redressing any slights or insults—or nearly mortal injuries.

There was something else Kristoff understood in that moment. The fact that Anna had survived being frozen, having her arm slashed apart, had survived everything, was the only reason Hans had remained alive to return to the Southern Isles. The ice harvester remembered Marshmallow all too well. The spikes of ice around the palace. He shivered when he thought of what might have been. If Anna hadn't frozen when she did…

"Kristoff!" Anna shook him roughly, pointing him towards the dais. While he had been lost in thought the other people for the ceremony had filed in and taken their seats. It was time. Anna and Gerda helped Elsa to stand, supporting her as she gave a brief address to the witnesses and officials gathered in the chapel. Elsa sat back in her chair, and bid Kristoff to kneel in front of her.

The ice harvester knelt, grudgingly, and bowed his head. He felt Elsa place something heavy around his neck, a cloth strap, with something metal attached. He held the object in front of him. It was a medallion, large, gold edged. The centre was silver filigree, a subtly embossed and highly detailed rendition of a single snowflake. On the back, running around the edge, were several Futhark runes. Kristoff could easily discern Isa, Jera, Raido, and Gebo.

"For your actions in saving Princess Anna of Arendelle, my only sister, I name you, Kristoff Bjorgman, as Official Ice Master and Deliverer for the kingdom of Arendelle."

"That's not a thing," Kristoff whispered in reply.

"It is now," Elsa whispered back, winking.

* * *

After the ceremony, Anna spent most of the day celebrating with Kristoff after making sure Elsa would be okay while she was out. Elsa sat at her desk, in the study, dealing with the mountain of paperwork that seemed to be the one constant of Arendelle's politics. There had to be a better way. She remembered the ruling council, established when her parents died, and dissolved upon her coronation. Perhaps she could turn to them for advice.

"Kai?"

"A request, Queen Elsa?"

"Yes. I wish to meet with the ruling council again. I feel I need their wisdom in an advisory capacity. Running a kingdom is too much work for just one person."

"Your father tended to agree," Kai spoke simply. "That was why he insisted on a council instead of stewardship, should anything untoward happen to himself or your mother, as it unfortunately did."

"Why didn't I think of this before?" Elsa asked the air as Kai wheeled her through the castle. "Why didn't you tell me about the council?"

"Because as your servant, it is not my place to advise on ruling policy or the running of the state, only on the running of the castle proper—and that you seem to have quite in hand."

"But you could see me struggling, you helped organize all the paperwork there. You… you…"

"I did what any good servant would. I am sorry for not helping you, but I simply do not know _how_ to run a kingdom, your majesty."

"You helped my father with…" Elsa trailed off, memories floating past. Anything related to the castle, the grounds, the staff, Elsa had seen her father and Kai in discussion over. But when talking of the kingdom, of policy, of laws, of other countries—it had been her. Only her. Elsa was shocked to remember it so clearly. There were a few vague faces from those meetings, but none of them were constant. Had Papa had several councils during his time as king?

Elsa couldn't remember. That summed up most of her afternoon, a blur of meetings, apologies, suggestions and not-so-subtle insults by those disinclined to trust anyone with special powers. That was why she sat in her chair at the gates to the castle, awaiting her sister's return. It was late, she knew they wouldn't get to the graves today. It wasn't that she was afraid to go out after dark—she was the Queen, after all, and had her magic—it was that she was afraid it would add to her already dark mood.

Kristoff pulled up outside the gates, his new sled having an unhealthy coating of dirt and mud along the runners and lower body. The ice harvester half-carried Anna to the gates of the castle, where she tried to hide an extravagant yawn. She put her arm out to lean against the gate. Her right arm. Elsa caught her as she stumbled. Seeing Anna was safe, Kristoff dismissed himself as Elsa turned her sister toward the castle.

"Long day, Anna?"

"Fun," she replied. "But… trolls. Heavy. Tried to marry us again. You should meet them."

"Anna," Elsa looked her sister in the eye, her voice hitching. "Is it–is it okay that I don't want to vis–to visit Mama and Papa's graves? Am I trying to run away from the pain again?"

"Nah," Anna waved airily. "'s late. Be really late by the time we go' back. Go tomorrow, 'kay?"

Anna stumbled again, and Elsa caught a whiff of something on her breath. She looked at her sister sternly. "Anna, have you been drinking?"

"Troll stuff. Had t' drink something, right?"

Elsa sighed. She was not going to get mad at this. Anna was a responsible—okay, mostly responsible—adult. She could make her own decisions. Elsa had to respect that. On the upside, she had learned that Anna didn't mind a drink or three, and really wasn't a problem while slightly tipsy. Aside from threatening to spill Elsa out of her chair when she staggered against it once or twice. She wasn't even going to comment on the twigs and leaves she saw sticking out from Anna's hair at all sorts of crazy angles. In the morning however, Elsa was going to lecture her sister about proper care of formal and ceremonial clothing. The castle's seamstress would likely have a fit.

Did the castle even have a seamstress? Elsa found herself asking. She honestly didn't know. That would be another task for tomorrow. Learn about the castle staff. Then find people to fill the vacant roles. With just her, Anna, Kai, Gerda and a handful of kitchen staff and groundskeepers, Elsa knew the castle felt empty. Almost abandoned. That was her fault too. Her parents had sent the staff away, because Elsa was afraid of hurting anyone with her powers. She had still managed to hurt someone in the castle. The person she cared about most in the world.

The person currently taking extra special care to climb the last three steps before she reached her room.


	10. Letting Go

"You failed everyone!" Papa's voice was clearer than ever, ringing through the ice palace. "You froze your sister. You abandoned your kingdom. You left your people _helpless_. You are no Queen."

"Bu–but it was an acci–accident Papa," Elsa's eight year old self stammered, backing away. "I di–didn't mean to–to hurt anyone."

"But you did!" the vision of her father roared back. "Anna is dead because of you! Arendelle suffers through an eternal winter—a winter you brought to them. Your people freeze in their very homes. How could you do this Elsa? How!"

Elsa stared at her feet. At her distorted reflection in the ice beneath them. She was small, and helpless, and alone. Everything was her fault. She wished she could just disappear. She was tiny and cold, but there was nowhere to hide. Papa seemed so much larger, more impressive. More imposing. More angry than he ever had been. Angrier than _Mom_. Elsa shook with fear, not really understanding what was happening. She tried so hard to control her powers. To keep everything in. She had tried everything. In the end she had simply pushed people away. Hopefully far enough that she could never hurt them again.

But it wasn't. It was never far enough. And even if those people didn't know it, they could still hurt her. Elsa thought of her sister, brave, bold little Anna. Red hair in braids, the shock of white—and how she had no idea why it was there. Elsa thought of Arendelle, the people, going about their lives, now buried in snow. She thought of Papa, how much she hated when he shouted at her. Her fear turned to anger. Her guilt turned to rage. How dare he accuse her of failing. How dare he blame her for Anna's death when he couldn't find a way to keep her powers in check.

Elsa just wanted him gone. A surge of water reflected off the ice. The wave crashed through the palace, splintering the walls into a million tiny pieces. Elsa struggled against the onslaught, dashed around mercilessly by the water. She tried to find her father. To catch one more glimpse of Papa. But he was gone. The water was gone. Everything… gone. Elsa sat in the snow, sobbing.

"No. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Come back. Come back! Please!"

Papa didn't come back. He never came back. A rumbling shook the mountain above her. Elsa didn't care anymore. Let an avalanche bury her. It didn't matter. It was what she deserved. After everything she'd done, she was surprised she hadn't simply been swallowed by the earth. Dragged into an unfeeling, blissful darkness. The snow slammed into her back, sent her tumbling into rocks and trees. A jagged spire of rock rushed to meet her. Elsa closed her eyes and everything went black.

* * *

"Elsa?" Anna's voice was soft, soothing. "Elsa, are you okay?"

"I—" Elsa looked into her sister's sleepy eyes. She was tempted to lie, to let Anna at least have a peaceful night. No. She was going to be better than that. Anna deserved better than that. "No, Anna, I'm not okay."

Elsa could feel her sister's hand trace her tears, gently brushing her cheeks. "You were crying. Shouting for someone to come back."

"Papa," Elsa half sobbed. She felt Anna shiver. In the moonlight she could see a thin layer of frost coating every surface. Small drifts of snow were scattered around the room.

"It's okay," Anna whispered, hugging her sister tight. "It's okay to be weak sometimes. To not be okay. To miss people."

"But I'm the Queen," Elsa protested. "I have to be strong. Strong enough for everyone. Show everyone my strengths, hide my weaknesses."

"I already know your strengths, but your weaknesses… they're what make you a person. A normal person, just like the rest of us. And maybe you don't want to be normal—or do you, with your powers?—but if we had different parents, we'd be normal. You and me. Nothing special. Just a girl with ice powers, and a girl without. Maybe we grew up different. Didn't hide your powers. Then we always built snowmen. Not just in winter, and I…"

Elsa wasn't sure what the next word was, but it sounded suspiciously like a snore. Anna's drooping eyelids confirmed the fact. So much for a midnight pep-talk. But Elsa did feel a little better. Anna was right. She didn't have to be okay all the time. Actually, Elsa considered, she was going to have to come to terms with not being okay quite a lot of the time. Sure, she would feel fine for a while. Hours. Maybe even a day. Then the paperwork, her legs, worrying about Anna. Heirs and succession. Arendelle. The future of the kingdom. All of it weighed heavily on her shoulders. She wished, just for a moment. For a second. She wished she could undo everything. But she realized that would also undo all the good memories too. Undo Anna's happiness. Elsa couldn't bring herself to wish for something like that come true, ever again.

So, instead of wishing for impossible things, Elsa tried to relax, watching her sister sleep. Elsa looked at her sister. Really looked at her, for the first time in… ever, really. Elsa could never remember being this close to anyone. Not even when she was a child. She studied Anna's face, the curve of her cheek, her small nose. Her hilariously—endearingly—terrible bed head. Anna's gently curving chin. Her slender neck, pale and vulnerable in the moonlight. The way her shoulders shifted as she rolled onto her back.

That was when Elsa noticed her sister's nightgown was in complete disarray, having fallen off her shoulder, leaving rather large areas exposed. Elsa wanted to simply slide the strap of the gown back up Anna's arm, but part of her was afraid of disturbing her sister's sleep. A different part of her was quietly comparing how similar they looked, and how different they were. Elsa knew that she had a respectable bust, and that Anna's was somewhat less impressive. Even in the moonlight, her sister's skin had a subtle glow about it, a much brighter, more radiant look than her own pale flesh.

Elsa's hand was halfway to her sister's exposed flesh before she realized what she was doing. Elsa gasped and drew her hand back. What in heaven's name was she thinking? Slowly, she realized how close they had become as sisters. She realized what closeness like that normally signified. She wondered if Anna ever thought like that. After all, this was the closest they'd been in a long time. The things they'd shared… Elsa wondered if they could be called intimate. She remembered the way Anna held her, touched her briefly, when she bathed, when she was toweling off.

Slowly, Elsa realized she had come to crave her sister's touch. Almost as much as she had tried to deny it for the last thirteen years. And because of that, she was confused. Very, very confused. She wanted a family—but she couldn't have one. Didn't this mean she should only have feelings like this for men. What if Anna had been a man. A friend, not family. Or what if Anna was only a friend, not her sister. Did that make thoughts like these alright?

Of course Elsa knew what was supposed to happen. Papa had had 'the talk' with her one embarrassing evening, an evening that seemed so very long ago. But things had been different then. Elsa's interest, her understanding, had been merely intellectual. She hadn't thought that she would ever find someone. She didn't think she deserved anyone—or that anyone was terrible enough to deserve her. On a basic level, she had understood what the talk was about. But only now, in the pale moonlight, lying next to Anna's half naked body and with most unsisterly thoughts crashing into each other in her head, did Elsa understand what the talks had meant. Only now did she understand—at least in part—about the emotions involved.

She wasn't sure confusion was supposed to be in there though. Maybe she'd added that one herself. And still she lay there, wondering: what if Anna was only a friend? A good friend? Or what if it had been a man lying there? Someone who had helped her through her injury over the past few days? Someone she didn't feel awkward around? Elsa didn't have any answers to those questions. They only raised more questions and left her even more confused.

Elsa sighed heavily, rolling over, putting her back to her sister, facing away from temptation. She needed sleep. She needed time. She needed… Elsa didn't know what she really needed. She just knew that she needed it.

* * *

"Elsa, wake up," Anna's voice was bursting with excitement. Elsa had no idea why. "C'mon, get up. We'll be late."

"Late for what?" Elsa slowly dragged herself towards consciousness.

"My wedding."

That did it. Elsa was suddenly awake, staring questioningly at her sister while trying to prop herself up on her elbows. "Your wedding?!"

Anna's laughter was priceless, as was the look on Elsa's face. Elsa thought she heard someone's subdued laughter outside the door. The light shining through the window showed it was still early. Very early. Yet Anna was awake, and excited about something. There was a cough from the other side of the door. Elsa turned to her sister, the huge grin slowly spreading across her face. And then Elsa knew.

"If Kristoff doesn't show up in the next five minutes," she muttered darkly. "He's going to be a widower."

Ice began to frost the windows, and the room chilled. Spikes of ice grew towards the bed.

"Elsa," it came as a breathless whisper. Elsa had heard it only once before—at the coronation ball. Her heart fell.

Elsa let the magic ebb, causing the ice to vanish. Anna shivered.

"Anna…?"

Anna's arm reached out to embrace her sister, dragging her under the covers. "When you use your magic like that. When it's angry… you're angry… it's… well, you're scary sometimes."

"I didn't mean to scare you like that Anna. I just wanted to give you a little fright."

"More than a little, you stinker," Anna thumped her sister on the chest. "You honestly think I'd marry Kristoff without asking you first—without taking the time to get to know him properly? Actually he's a really sweet guy. Strong too. Smells like reindeer, but he tastes like… umm, he tastes good?"

"I have no desire to know how you know that," Elsa made her wishes quite clear.

"Not even a little?" Anna teased running a hand through Elsa's unbraided her. The platinum blonde Queen of Arendelle shied away from the touch. Anna was surprised enough to let her hand fall away empty. That was also when she noticed Elsa staring at her chest—in kind of the same way Kristoff pretended not to when he could get away with it. "Elsa? Is everything okay?"

"I–It's fine Anna. I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk now?" Anna asked, dragging herself out of bed, and helping her sister into her chair. "Or you just don't want to talk?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Just… not with you…"

"But we've shared so much now. I thought you were past shutting me out!" anger crept into Anna's voice.

"I cant," Elsa repeated flatly.

"Why?" Anna pressed, helping Elsa undress herself in the bathroom.

"I can't!" the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Anna shivered.

"Okay…" Anna's expression softened. She could tell Elsa needed more time. It had taken her a long time to ask about their parents. This was probably something similarly painful. Anna wondered if it was about that night—when she was five and Elsa was eight. They'd talked about it. Elsa had apologized for it, but it it always seemed to show up again. She just needs time, Anna told herself. "But Elsa, please, don't shut me out. I want to help."

"I know you do. And you are. You're helping more than you know. Just being there—and that's just it. You're always there. I keep feeling like I'm holding you back from something," it wasn't a lie. Not really. Elsa really did feel that way sometimes. And anyway, how could she possibly tell Anna how she truly felt. The whole situation was unbearably awkward. "If you want to get back to sleep, I can always call for Gerda."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous Elsa. You're just going to have to get over your embarrassment at needing help with this. Like it wasn't going to happen eventually."

"What?!" Elsa was more shocked than angry.

"Well, we're both gonna get old one day—I mean, like, a long time from now. Years even"—Anna stuck out her tongue—"but we'll get old. We'll need help doing things. Probably forget your name first. Then mine. But I'll remember what I had for breakfast six days ago because I'll be seeing it again."

"Anna!" Elsa was laughing despite the awkwardness she suddenly felt around her sister. "That's disgusting. And most unladylike."

"What, old people aren't allowed to poop?"

Elsa held her head in her hands. Trust Anna to be so blunt. So terribly, terribly—hilariously—blunt. Elsa really didn't have a reply to that. Mostly because she was still mortified to hear her sister talk like that. To talk about such things. Even in private. Even, Elsa realized, in the appropriate setting. She was also suddenly reminded of Anna's persistence when it came to getting things she wanted.

"Elsa, about this morning," she started tentatively. "I get it. It's something you don't want to talk about. Like my arm. I mean, how I didn't want to talk about that. But, can you at least tell me why?"

"I—" Elsa started, but cut herself off. "I'm sorry Anna. I can't. It's… it's really awkward."

"Is it that whole family and succession thing where having a baby makes me Queen?"

"Well, sort of," Elsa replied. It was the truth, to some degree. At this point Anna was washing up, and helping Elsa into her day clothes. Which were disturbingly all black.

"You look like you're going to a fune—oh," and Anna understood. Recalled the conversation they'd had the previous morning. Was this the source of all the awkwardness?

"Wear whatever you want," Elsa spoke casually to her sister. Too casually. "You've already done this."

"You're not getting out of it that easily. We're both going. _After_ breakfast. And I have my own mourning dress to wear."

Elsa could see the tears gathering at the corners of Anna's eyes. Felt the unshed tears weighing her down. She thought she'd grieved, accepted the loss in her own private prison. All she'd done was push it out of her mind. Lock it deep within her heart. She hadn't wanted to hurt. She'd never felt a hurt so deep. Not until she had sung the lullaby with Anna did she realize what she really needed to do. She also realized that meant she would have to relive all that pain. All the heartache. But instead of locking up it, this time, somehow, she would have to let it go.

"Hey Elsa?" Anna asked innocently. "Would you like to braid my hair. It's kinda… umm… impossible to do with just one hand."

They were back in Anna's room. Elsa hesitated. It meant she would be touching her sister. Would her touch be different now? Would Anna notice? Could she take that risk?

"Sure. You didn't bother brushing it, did you?"

"Hey, I totally—" Elsa's stare cut off Anna's protest as the red haired sister sat in front of Elsa's wheelchair. She wordlessly handed Elsa her brush.

If she noticed any difference in the way Elsa held her hair, touched her head, or anything else, she made no comment about it. Instead, she mock-whined.

"You know, I kind of miss the white. It felt special."

Elsa reached forward to hug her sister, wrapping both arms around her from behind. It was a difficult posture to hold, sitting in the chair. She couldn't help that when her hand slipped it ended up where it did. Or that she was saying, at the time: "You don't need the white hair. You're special to me."

Anna made no attempt to move her sister's hand. She just turned around and wrapped her own arm around Elsa's shoulders. "You're special to me too. Now, breakfast!"

And so, a grand breakfast was had. Fruits, cereals, toast, a sneaky piece of chocolate. An even sneakier sip of wine with the grape juice. Elsa envied the way her sister could truly enjoy—even relish—such moments. She also knew such envy was not fair on her part. Anna had suffered at least as much as she had, although her torment through the years had been of a less physical kind, it didn't make it any less valid. It was just—Elsa didn't know what it was. Possibly the fact that Anna was more open, showed her pain, let others help her deal with it.

* * *

The morning faded, and Elsa knew it was her fault. Literally. Clouds were obscuring the sun as she wheeled herself solemnly onwards, a few paces behind Anna. She was trying to keep her powers in check. That meant suppressing her emotions—something Elsa was trying emphatically _not_ to do these days. She had found a kind of compromise. That was the reason it was merely overcast instead of howling a gale with a blizzard bearing down on Arendelle. That compromise was Elsa telling herself it was okay to feel, but that what she felt had to be _happy_. Given where they were heading though, happy was not easy to come up with.

Anna informed her they were nearly there. Snow began drifting gently from the clouds overhead. Small flakes, floating and drifting as if they were as forlorn as Elsa. And maybe, Elsa thought, maybe they are. It's _my_ snow after all. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. The snow abated. A little. She didn't actually know how far her powers reached right now. She hoped it wasn't as far as when she'd run away.

Elsa could tell they were there even before Anna stopped. The standing stones were hard to miss. Two stones, rough hewn from the rocks of the mountains. Runes—names, carved on each. King… Queen… Elsa couldn't bring herself to read their names. To her they had always been Mama and Papa. They always would be. Not matter how old she got. No matter how old they might have gotten.

Elsa approached her mother's grave first. She knew it wasn't really a grave. Just a headstone. Her body was one with the sea now. But the stone was important. Symbolic. It anchored her spirit to home. If her spirit might ever return. Elsa found herself hoping it would. Just to see how much of a fine young lady Anna had become. Let her ignore the hurt, the pain Hans had inflicted on her daughters. Let her spirit know only the good that was left in them.

Anna placed the flower for Mama at the base of the stone. It was a Gentiana bloom—little more than a bud, the blue of its petals just starting to show. She missed what Anna was whispering, but caught the tears falling silently down her sister's face. It was clear both sisters knew the significance of the closed bloom. It was essentially the same thing Elsa had just hoped for, but expressed with much greater elegance. What the closed Gentiana bloom meant was this: Sweet be thy dreams.

Snow began to dust the gravestones, drifts building up against the base of each. Elsa took deep, shaky breaths. She couldn't calm herself down. If she couldn't get herself under control. If her morose feelings were allowed to continue too long—I'm still a danger, Elsa told herself. I have to keep it under control. But then how do I let go? How do I acknowledge the pain without it consuming me?

She thought she should be crying, but all Elsa felt was empty. There was grief, bereavement—then there was the numbness she was feeling, the snowfall slowing, seeming to hang in the air for longer and longer. She didn't know what to do, so she just talked.

"Mama, I really miss you. I know I think about Papa more, but you were important. Always. And you were there for Anna. I loved you for that too. I know you loved us both very much. Even if you had to go away, you still loved us. You still do. I hope. I guess you know everything that happened, but… well, I got through the coronation okay, but at the ball Anna stole my glove. She kept pushing me and pushing me, and I used my magic. I didn't mean to. It happened. So I had to run away.

"I had to. I left for the mountains. Everyone would be safe from me if I ran all the way up there, right? But they weren't. Nobody was. I covered all of Arendelle in winter. It must have been so cold. But I didn't know. I made an ice palace. I used my powers, and I was happy. Really, truly, happy. But then Anna came along. She told me what I'd done. She was just trying to help and… and…"

Elsa dragged herself out of the wheelchair, snow piling up around her, and pulled herself closer to Mama's gravestone. She wrapped her arms around it, the snow starting to fall lazily through the air again.

"I froze her heart Mama. I froze her heart! Then I slammed the doors in her face. Again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. But Kristoff… he found her. Saved her after what I'd done to her. Then the duke's men attacked me. They tried to kill me. I used my magic again. I had to. They forced me. I had to protect myself. Then there was Hans. He threw me in that cell—the special one. But I broke out. I broke out. It wasn't strong enough.

"Then he told me Anna was dead because of me. I froze her heart. I heard his sword. I knew what he wanted to do. And… and… and…" silent tears coursed down Elsa's face as she hugged her mother's gravestone. "I gave up. Like that. My life wasn't worth anything if Anna was dead. But she wasn't dead. I heard her scream. I felt something like fire down my back. Now… now my legs don't work. Anna lost her arm. But we have each other.

"That was what you always said right. 'As long as we have each other'?"

Elsa felt a warm hand placed against her shoulder, she looked up to see Anna smiling down at her through her own tears. The feisty red haired princess looked—proud, there was no other way Elsa could describe that look. But not proud of herself, Elsa understood. Anna was proud of her _sister_. The red haired princess patted her sister's shoulder, then stepped away again. There was one more thing Elsa had to do.

Elsa looked longingly at the stone, imagined their mother's face. Her soft smile and warm eyes. It was hardest thing to do. But what she had to say next—what she had to tell herself to accept—made that act of imagination even harder and more melancholy. The snowflakes hung motionless in the still air as Elsa saw her mother's face just in front of the gravestone. There was just one thing left to do now. Her tears had stopped, but Elsa's heart felt heavier than ever.

"Goodbye, Mom. I'll miss you."

This time there was no hand on her shoulder. Elsa slowly dragged herself back to her chair. Anna was sitting in the snow, knees drawn up to her chest, her arm wrapped around them. Snow dusted her hair and shoulders. Elsa could see the tears still in her sister's eyes. Could see the pain she was just barely holding back. Elsa had never realized just how much the death of their parents had put her sister though. She had been trapped in her own private world of misery and despair. She had forgotten other people had feelings—had feelings as deep and powerful as her own.

Elsa reached out to embrace her sister and was shocked to feel Anna's arm pushing her away. Anna, the sister who for so long had wanted nothing more than a little human contact from her best friend. The sister who insisted that all of things Elsa had done to her were accidental. The sister whose bed she had shared these past few nights. The same sister was pushing her away. Elsa wondered if this was how Anna had felt when she'd first been shut out of Elsa's room.

"No," Anna spoke softly, sobbing. "You can go. I'm breaking my promise. I never want to see you hurt like that. It's not fair! I can't help you!"

"What makes you so sure?" Elsa asked cryptically, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. Anna's hand came up instinctively to grab it. "What if just being here helps me?"

"How?"

"If I was on my own, do you think I could have said that. Do you think I could have stayed long enough to say even half of it?"

"Maybe?"

"It does help Anna, you being here. And I know it hurts you to see my pain, but I… I have to feel this pain. I have to experience the grief properly, or it's going to weigh me down forever. I can't begin to heal if I don't know what was hurting me all this time."

"Here," Anna rummaged in her pocket for something. It was a stone. Small. Rough. Three runes had been painstakingly carved on it. It looked painstaking. Elsa could tell her sister's craftsmanship anywhere.

"I can't," Elsa gently folded her sister's fingers back around the stone.

"Should," Anna sobbed. "You were his favourite."

"I can't," Elsa repeated, more emphatically. "Not alone."

Anna smiled through her tears, allowing Elsa to help her stand. "Together."

The sisters approached their father's gravestone. Elsa leaned forward and used a touch of her power to clear the snow. Anna knelt down and placed the stone, runes facing upward. She placed it next to another pair of stones, their runes slowly worn away by the intervening years. Without a word, Elsa pulled herself from her chair and sat stiffly on the ground, rearranging her legs into something resembling a cross-legged sitting position, forming a backrest of ice to keep herself upright. Hands in her lap, and with Anna sitting beside her, Elsa began to talk.

"It's… it's good to see you again Papa. I still think about you. I miss you. I wish I knew what you know. Being the Queen is hard. Really hard. I wasn't ready for all this. I never was. I'm still struggling Papa. You always made it look so easy, but I know it wasn't. You were king, and Arendelle your kingdom. You would do anything to protect it. Even if it meant protecting it from _me_. I know you had to send everyone away because of me. I know how much it must have hurt you to do that.

"You were a good man, Papa. You never wanted me to hide like I did. You just wanted me to be safe. To keep my magic safe. I tried to. I really did, but secrets like that… I kept it bottled up for so long it grew and grew and grew. And finally, it broke the bottle I was keeping it in. At the ball. After Anna asked to marry Hans. My glove… she didn't mean to. I just wanted to get away. I just wanted to be alone. Again. That's when it broke. Now everyone knows—but they don't hate me. Not all of them.

"But I ran away. Far into the mountains. I could be a Queen of my own little kingdom up there. Anna would be Queen of Arendelle. She would be a nice queen. A good queen. Not like me. But she followed me. Always. She found me. Found my palace of ice. Told me what I'd done to my kingdom—my real kingdom, Arendelle. I was scared, stressed, angry. I ran away so everyone would be safe! Then Anna comes chasing me, and…

"Do you remember that night Papa, when I was eight? The first time. We rode all night to get to the trolls. You remember what they said? 'The heart is not so easily changed.' That's what they said. That's what I did because I was scared and angry. It was an accident, but I froze Anna's heart"—Elsa felt her sister gently take her arm, twine their fingers together and squeeze—"but she still loves me. She always did. She saved my life Papa. She was the brave one. Even with just one arm she's bolder and braver than me. Than I ever was.

"She's too good for me Papa. After everything I've done, after everything I said—she still loves me. I don't deserve such a wonderful sister. She shouldn't be burdened with someone like—oww, Anna!—someone like me. She shouldn't have been hurt. She should be free, free to live how she wants, not having to take care of me. Hans took my legs from me. His sword across my back. They don't work anymore. And Anna's arm… before she froze… before she saved my life… I just want you to know something Papa.

"You helped raise an amazing young woman. Brave, bold, fearless, open, full of wonder, full of warmth. Full of love. Then there's me. But I'm not your fault. And I'm trying to change. To be better. To look for help. To accept help from others. That's why I'm here. Anna's here too, she promised me. She'd stop me if I tried to run away. But I don't feel like running anymore Papa. Running away just made me tired. And sad. And alone. And now I know it was never the answer. Anna was the answer. She showed me. You don't run from your fears. You hold your ground. You turn and face them. Head on. You weather the storm. No matter how much it hurts, you hold your ground in the face of your fears. Always."

Her speech finished, Elsa drew in a deep, calming breath. It actually felt calming. Another breath. She heard something in the still air. A quiet sobbing. Her right hand was twined with Anna's left. It was Anna, crying softly into the snow.

"That was…" Anna sniffled before starting again. "That was beautiful Elsa."

Elsa leaned over, toppled sideways, reaching out to hug her sister. Anna's braids fell across the top of view. Her smile was worth it. Lying there in the snow, Elsa discovered part of herself she hadn't known about before. A part of her heart full of kindness and mischief. A part of her that would do anything to see Anna smile. Because her sister was worth it. Wordlessly, Anna helped Elsa upright, sitting against the ice again. Elsa placed her hands in her lap, took a minute to compose herself.

She took a deep breath.

Another.

She had one last thing to say. She had to mean it. It weighed heavily in her heart, but she knew that once she said it, accepted it, that weight would ease. She felt Anna shuffle closer, drape her arm lazily over her shoulders. She felt Anna lean against her shoulder. The closeness didn't feel awkward this time. It felt normal. Just two sisters, helping each other through their grief.

"I never blamed you," Elsa spoke to the gravestone, imagining her father's face. It was harder to see than her mother's. More than his face, Elsa remembered her father's bearing, his poise, the clothes that made the man. The one prized possession he had that he'd taken to the grave with him. A gold cross, suspended on a thick red ribbon. Before he was king, he had served Arendelle. Had served with distinction. That medal was proof. The Star of Arendelle, for outstanding gallantry in defense of the realm. That was what Elsa remembered most. That was also, probably, where Anna got her courage from. From Papa. Elsa wished she had more of her own to call upon.

"What happened…" Elsa tried again. "It wasn't your fault Papa. I loved you, even if I couldn't show it. I hated not being able to touch you, or mom. I hated being afraid of hurting people. But I loved you. I always did. I always have. I always will. No matter what happens, I still love you. Even if… even if"—Elsa took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting to hold back the tears until she had finished speaking—"even if I have to say goodbye."

A weight felt like it was lifting inside Elsa's heart. A weight that had borne her down for so long. And as it lifted, so did the snow. As Anna stroked her hair, Elsa watched as the clouds overhead slowly broke apart. The sun began to shine again, warm and brilliant against the fallen snow.


	11. Summer Snow

Snow still covered the ground in small drifts, a warm summer breeze driving it slowly to the east. The sun shone through dappled clouds, casting vague shadows across the hills north of Arendelle. Across those hills walked two sisters. One walked, the other fought to drive her wheelchair onward, chasing the first. Snow suddenly fell on the first sister, tripping her, red braids flying as she tumbled into the grass and snow.

"That's cheating," she mock-whined as the wheelchair rolled past. She was already rising from the snow, giving chase. She managed to grab the rail at the back of her sister's chair on the third try, nearly sending both of them sprawling as she turned the chair to the side.

"Like that's not?" The blonde sister replied as the redhead sprinted past. But she laughed. A happy laugh. The kind of laughter her kingdom hadn't heard in thirteen years. Still laughing, she made a ramp of ice for the chair, rocketing down the hill. She missed the tiny rock at the end of her ramp. Her chair didn't. The Queen of Arendelle found herself suddenly free of any earthly restraints. Disturbingly free.

In that moment, Elsa realized she had gone flying from her chair, and had seconds before she hit the ground. Hard. A wave of her arms conjured a massive pile of snow. She turned her head sideways and closed her eyes. It still hurt. But not nearly as much as plowing into the ground would have at that speed. Her arms wouldn't move. She could still _feel_ them, but they were pinned by the snow. Elsa didn't know how large she'd made her cushion of snow.

She felt herself moving, a jerky, uncoordinated movement. Progress was being made, she felt her fingers slip free. Wrists. Arms. Her chest. Suddenly she was sprawled on top of Anna, the red haired princess somewhat roughly pushing her aside, gasping for breath.

"You weigh. A ton."

Elsa stared at her sister and raised an eyebrow. "You really think that?"

"Just lemme–let me cat–catch my breath. I just sprint down a hill. After you g–go flying. Then snow everywhere. And, and… Elsa, it was like one of those plays. Just your legs–your legs sticking out, and…" Anna couldn't finish the sentence, she was laughing too hard. It took her a minute to calm down. Several minutes. "I'm glad you're okay. But just, I pulled you out of the snow, and you had to land right on top of me. Right here"—Anna thumped her solar plexus—"felt like a reindeer sat on me."

"Really?" Elsa whined humorously. "First you call me fat, then you compare me to a _reindeer?_ "

"Hey, I—oh," Anna smiled. "I could have called you Marshmallow instead."

"Oh–oh, you did not just go there!"

Anna laughed as the chase resumed, Elsa conjuring a new chair from the abundant snow. It was good to see her sister laugh. To show her that there were times when she could set her responsibilities aside and just play. Just be. Anna hoped Elsa knew that that was enough. That it was all she'd ever really wanted. Anna imagined them building a snowman later, let her mind run free.

Which was why the first snowball almost knocked her senseless. And also sent snow sliding down the inside of the collar of her dress. The second snowball sailed wide. Anna's own retaliatory strike fell from her hands when she saw a carrot in the distance. A carrot that somehow seemed to be getting closer. Definitely getting closer.

"Olaf?" the sisters asked in unison.

"Hi Anna. Hi Elsa," Olaf jumped as he waved, making sure he could be seen. "Hmm, funny to have a blizzard in summer. Hey, Elsa, do you know where all this snow is coming from?"

"Olaf."

"Okay, fine. I know it's you. And it's really fun. All the kids are making snowmen. But there's some shouting by the docks, and I was supposed to tell you something… but I forgot. I don't think it was important."

"Olaf?" Anna asked just loudly enough for Elsa to hear. "How did you find us?"

"I always find you," Olaf smiled at the red haired princess. "I just look in my heart, and there you are. Hey, are you sure you don't want to borrow my arm?"

Olaf was once again holding out his arm, measuring it against Anna's stump. Anna took the arm gently, then placed it back on the snowman.

"I'm sorry Olaf, but people aren't made that way."

"Oh. Umm, I guess I need to find out how people are made then."

This drew a quiet guffaw from the Queen. Anna just looked shocked.

"What?" Olaf asked, looking at both of them. "What did I say?"

Elsa only laughed louder at this. Anna regained some of her composure and replied.

"It's nothing Olaf. We'll tell you later," of course, along with Elsa, she had no desire to tell the little snowman _anything_ about 'how people were made'. He'd probably forget it before noon. The sisters certainly hoped he would—mostly because it would prove to be one of the most disturbingly awkward conversations either of them could ever imagine. It fell just short of eventually having to tell their own offspring the same thing.

"You came to get us for something, Olaf?" Elsa prompted.

"Oh, that's right!" the little snowman danced around happily. "Kristoff and Sven are looking for you two. Well, looking for Anna I guess. They're at the castle now. And wow, this really is a _lot_ of snow for summer."

Olaf looked up at the largest pile of snow again. Looked at Elsa. Looked up at the snow. The small, roughly queen shaped hole. Looked at Elsa again. Noticed she was smiling at his confusion.

"You can _fly?_ " he asked after looking up at the pile of snow one last time.

"No, Olaf. I can't fly."

"Then how did… wait, did Marshmallow throw you!?"

"No, Olaf. My chair hit something when I was racing down the hill. That sent me flying," Elsa immediately regretted her choice of words.

"So you _can_ fly," Olaf's voice was full of secret triumph. "I _knew_ it!"

"No I—" Elsa cut herself off. Why not let Olaf think she could fly? It was going to be difficult to convince him otherwise right now. Let him have his fun. And let Anna have hers too, if Kristoff was looking for her.

"Anna, why don't you go with Olaf and meet Kristoff. I'll make my own way back to the castle."

"You're sure you'll be okay, it's quite far."

"I made it this far," Elsa smiled at her sister's concern for her. "If I'm not chasing you I won't have to go as fast. Maybe I'll even spend some time in the town, see what people think of this snow?"

"I read some of those letters Elsa. If you go to the wrong places… I…"

"I'll be fine Anna. If it gets that bad—and I hope it _never_ does—I can just freeze anyone trying to hurt me. Now go, have a good time with Kristoff. And if you do _things_ to each other, don't tell me. Ever."

"Eww, Elsa," Anna screwed up her face in disgust, slowly walking away. "Firstly, we're not that close yet. I mean, I don't think we are. We've hugged, we kissed—he doesn't taste like reindeer, but I think I might have told you already—and sometimes he tries looking down my dress. Or through my dress. When he thinks I'm not looking. So Sven says something, and gives up the game. And he's my boyfriend and maybe one day we'll do things… but why would I tell you anyway?"

"Because you tell me _everything_ ," Elsa teased. "Even when I don't want to know."

"Oh, I—no I don—you don't know _everything_."

"And I hope I never do," Elsa poked her tongue out at her sister, then waved a brief farewell. Anna half ran, half skipped behind Olaf. Elsa watched them go, then headed for the town of Arendelle.

* * *

It was time to see just how much damage her latest bout of emotional weather had inflicted. By the time she reached the outskirts of town Elsa saw the snow already melting. It was just a few drifts here and there, nothing like that night. A few snowmen were melting in the summer sun, dissolving into puddles. Aside from a few offhand comments, no one paid any heed to the supernatural weather. Elsa began to wonder if this was the same Arendelle she had left, or if this was a strangely pleasant kind of dream-town and she had yet to wake up. Something pinched her arm.

Elsa reacted instantly, unable to see the threat. A wall of ice surrounded her chair, cutting her off from the street. She looked around slowly, trying to find out who had touched her. All she could see were the children, suddenly afraid. A few of the townsfolk stopped and stared at her icy shield. Stopped and stared at the child she had inadvertently trapped in the ice. With a gasp of shock, Elsa tried to undo the magic. She could see the child struggling to free his arm. Could see his slowly rising panic.

Closing her eyes, Elsa took a deep, calming breath. The child wasn't hurt. Wasn't frozen. This wasn't Anna. Elsa exhaled, letting the concern and love she had always felt for Anna flow through her, through the ice she just made. The wall dissolved into a pile of snowflakes, and the suddenly freed child ran from the Queen. Ran as fast as he could. Elsa took another deep breath before resting her head in her hands. How could she have… if the child had actually been hurt… I have to _think_ before using my magic, Elsa told herself. Think of the consequences. But how could I know it was just a child, not someone trying to hurt me?

And as that thought floated through her mind, Elsa found something disturbing in herself. In the heat of the moment, she _couldn't_ tell the difference. Couldn't tell the difference between a playful child and a vengeful attacker. Someone placed their hand on her shoulder. Elsa couldn't help herself. It just happened. But she did have just enough self control to turn it to snow instead of ice. The hand left her shoulder, and Elsa turned around slowly.

The man she faced was tall. Taller even than her Papa had been. He had a lean figure, a narrow, distinguished face, and a pained smile. He was also in uniform. Navy blue, gold trim, epaulets, cutlass held in an ivory scabbard at his right hip. A marine. One of Arendelle's Royal Marines. And she had all but buried in him snow. Snow he was gently brushing off his shoulders and out of his hair.

"I wasn't expecting a reception _this_ icy from the Snow Queen," he spoke with good grace and a touch of sly humour. "But I guess it was in the name."

Elsa found herself blushing, not entirely sure why. "Please don't call me that."

"Then what should I call you, your majesty?" the man asked, kneeling before her and taking her hand, kissing her middle finger. It was the way a subject would normally greet a royal, so why did Elsa suddenly feel so awkward. Was it the fact he did it in the middle of the street. Was it the fact he did it without a hint of irony or insincerity. Or was it the fact he had reached to touch her, again, after being metaphorically burned just moments ago for the same thing?

"Elsa. Queen Elsa. I…" Elsa was lost for words. Had she been going say something else? She couldn't remember. The man, marine, in front of her stood, and bowed, introducing himself as if they were at a formal party.

"Lieutenant Henrik Erikson, of the Third Arendelle Royal Marine Fusiliers."

"Fusiliers?" Elsa asked. She didn't know much of Arendelle's military, save that it had one. It had been one of the things Papa had been teaching her about before… before he died.

"Riflemen, you majesty. Trained in musketry drill."

"Lieutenant Erikson?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Would you see me safely to the castle, if you have no other duties discharge this morning."

"Certainly, your majesty. Do you require my services as an escort or as locomotion?"

"An escort. You know, Lieutenant, you are the first person to approach me in the open here without showing the slightest hint of fear."

"What if I'm merely very good at hiding my fears. One learns to do so quickly on the field of battle."

"If you were afraid of me, you would never have touched me in the first place."

"A sound deduction, your majesty, but ultimately false. I was, indeed, afraid of you. But I also saw that you were—I hope this does not sound too presumptuous—afraid of yourself. I am certain that young boy shall be fine. He will have a most exciting story to regale his friends with when he calms down."

"Are you always this stiff and formal?" Elsa found it intriguing that Lieutenant Erikson was so well spoken and well mannered, and never seemed to let his speech slip. It was completely opposed to the way she and Anna talked. Different too to how Kristoff spoke—when he spoke at all.

"Not all the time. I am, however, with royalty at this moment. My mother drilled into me long ago the importance of manners when addressing people who far outrank you in society. You, your majesty, outrank myself, a mere soldier, by several orders of magnitude. I could, if you prefer, try to speak as I do with my marines, but I fear that would be far too crude for royal ears."

"You haven't heard Anna during a good rant," Elsa muttered.

"Pardon, your majesty?"

"Nothing, lieutenant Erikson. I was just thinking of my sister."

"Ah, yes, Princess Anna. I had heard of the—family dispute—that went with the weather. I also heard much about this prince from the Southern Isles. May I enquire as to the health of your sister?"

"You may, lieutenant Erikson. And you should be pleased to hear that she is as healthy and happy and annoying as she ever was. Losing her arm has not seemed to slow her down. If anything, it has forced her to move faster. To try and do more every day. I get the distinct impression she's trying compensate for something."

"I am sure she will calm down within a few days. The activity is likely to do her good—it works well for injured soldiers, why should it not work for an injured princess?"

"Princess Anna… calm down," Elsa repeated slowly. "Using those words in the same sentence. Clearly, you don't know my sister."

"No, I do not. Neither do I presume to know you, your majesty. I am just serving as humble member of Arendelle's finest, escorting the Queen regnant to her throne."

They were nearing the gates of the castle. Elsa just had one question left for the man escorting her. "Lieutenant Erikson, why did you reach out for me?"

"I ha—Because I saw a young woman suffering."

"That's it?" Elsa was more than a little surprised.

"Should I, as an officer and a gentleman, need more reason than that to reach out and attempt to help my Queen. Should I need more reason than that to reach out and attempt to help anyone?"

"No," Elsa replied softly. "That is as fine and noble a reason as any. Arendelle needs more men like you, lieutenant Erikson."

"You flatter me, your majesty," lieutenant Erikson bowed. "I have borne you safely home. With your leave, I shall find myself dismissed."

"Thank you, lieutenant, for your services. Also, I wish to thank you for an illuminating conversation."

"Certainly, your majesty. If you have need of my services again, you may find me through the Third Fusiliers. Fare thee well."

As lieutenant Erikson walked away, Elsa cocked her head. It might have been the way he was walking, or the pants, perhaps. It might even have been that he was in—immaculate—uniform. Whatever the reason, it left Elsa with a desire to be alone—very alone—and not for the usual reasons she wanted to be alone either. A sly grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, Elsa wheeled herself into the castle grounds. The first council session was due to start in a little over an hour, and then, she was going to do some more research on this lieutenant Erikson.


	12. A Council Divided

Elsa sat at the head of the council chamber, a large second floor meeting room with a massive oaken table at the centre. Around it sat the prior ruling council, now set to serve the kingdom in an advisory role. Six people, in addition to her. Not truly remembering her conversations from the previous day, Elsa asked for a brief introduction from each of them.

"Per Johanssen, Minister of Trade," a lean, almost skeletal elder man replied. He looked almost cadaverously thin, but Elsa knew that not to be the case normally. He had confided in her the previous afternoon—during his fencing match against Kai—that he was recently recovering from a grave illness. He had been bold enough to joke that it was due to her cutting trade with Weaseltown. Weselton, he had corrected her. He and the Duke of that country had often been at odds, but the trade was indeed valuable, so he'd had to play nice, he explained. It was the one thing that had stuck in her mind from the previous afternoon.

"Markus Gerhardt, Marshal of Arendelle," that was the man with the gold braid on a black jacket. He also had a close cropped beard, and the short hair that was becoming the norm for military men. While he had been a soldier, Elsa could see he was not one now. Slightly overweight, and a bearing that demanded respect, even if he might not have earned it.

"Stefan Larsson, Official Scribe," a younger man than the rest of the council, he would have been sharply dressed, if not for the fact his suit was a size too small. It was obviously inherited from someone with a slighter stature. It made Elsa wonder what Larsson normally did for a living.

"Bishop Clarence Gudbrand," a man Elsa already knew. Admittedly, she didn't know him well, but she knew him from when he had been first appointed to the role, eight years ago.

"Søren 'Raske' Skjeggestad, Guildsman," this came from a man of average build but towering height, making him seem rather lean. He had a magnificent red beard, and unruly, wiry hair tied up in a short tail. A large hammer hung from a loop on his belt. Elsa figured that aside from her, this man was likely the most powerful person in the room. All the guilds answered to him. Blacksmith, silversmith, the ice harvesters, even the farmers might be under his domain. Elsa knew she'd have to enquire further at some point.

"Hanne Kristoffersen, High Justicar," another of the elder statesmen on the council. Elsa considered him overweight, and somewhat overbearing, from what she could remember of their first meeting. He was an honest man however, and the only ones who voiced complaints against him had been those he sent to the jail. He must be doing something right, Elsa thought quietly, making a mental note to look up more about his career later.

"Vanja Ostberg-Lang, Advisor," the only other woman in the room said briskly. Tall, blonde, with green eyes, and a habit of dressing in fur regardless of the season.

"Thank you all for coming," Elsa started. "As I outlined to each of you yesterday the pressures of being Queen have weighed upon me heavily this past week. I know that my father did not rule alone—a fact I often took for granted—and I have discovered that I may not have strength enough to rule alone either. Even if I did have the strength, I no longer desire the ability to rule alone. Arendelle needs help, I need help. It truly is that simple."

Elsa turned to the trade minister, Johanssen, first. "If you have had time to read the reports, who would you recommend establishing ties with that best benefit us?"

"I would venture either Spain, for their supply of exotic foods and festivals, or possibly Corona, for the debt owed us during the Great Search."

"Nothing of France, or the Isles?"

"France may be closer than Spain, your majesty, but in the long run Spain's goods will be more valuable as commodities we can trade further afield. As to the Isles, we all know of what transpired last time the Southern Isles sent an envoy—although you have asked for another, we feel it prudent to warn you to be on your guard with southerners. The Western Isles, however, remain as aloof as ever. If a trade treaty of some kind were possible, it would most likely have to be negotiated either in, or with, Corona."

"I see," Elsa nodded, taking all this in as best she could. "Thank you minister Johanssen. Now, Guildsman Skjeggestad—"

"Please, call me Raske, or Søren, if you prefer."

"—very well, Guildsman Søren, is there anything the guilds wish to put forth at this time—aside from the obvious?"

"No, your majesty. The guilds are content with their lot. For now. I'm sure they'll think of something to annoy us with sooner or later. I do apologize for that man from the ice harvesters' guild the other day. He was out of line. Although, I admit I did share his sentiments, I did not share his boldness in voicing them so directly."

"I—Thank you, Søren. I appreciate your candor. Justicar Kristoffersen, do the courts have anything of import for this meeting?"

The Justicar simply shook his head.

"Very well, Bishop Gudbrand?"

"I have had to set a few misguided souls straight this past week. People calling you a witch, spawn of Chernaborg, and things much worse. I must admit to having some degree of trepidation about your powers myself, your majesty. You were born with them, as we have been informed, so we know it is not possible for you to be rid of them—at least, not without being rid of you as well, and that is something neither I, nor most of Arendelle desires."

"Most… of Arendelle?"

"There are a few people that are convinced your powers are a manifestation of your evil. It pains me to tell you so, but such people still live in this town."

Elsa leaned back in her chair. Well, it wasn't like she expected the whole world to like her. It was enough that Anna liked her. That Kristoff could live with her and her powers. And it wasn't like the townsfolk were trying to burn her at the stake—and what had the Bishop just said?

"Excuse me," Elsa interrupted Bishop Gudbrand. "But could you repeat that last part?"

"Oh, uh, certainly your majesty. I was saying that in one of the houses on the outskirts of town we found what was clearly an effigy of you. We found a large stake nearby, and piles of tinder and logs. It seems clear what they meant to do."

"And have you found them?" Elsa asked, suddenly worried.

"Unfortunately not. I have a feeling they fled town not long after your proclamation. I hope they find sanctuary in some other place. Where their fear of you is a danger to no one but themselves."

"Marshal Gerhardt?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Is there anything the military needs at this moment?" Elsa led with an appeasing question. "And is it possible to track these men the Bishop spoke of?"

"Aside from a little house cleaning, which has been in order for some time, the military of Arendelle is in good shape. What little of it there is. Four Royal Marine companies, all understrength. Two battalions of foot Guards. A single platoon of the Royal Artillery. We lack soldiers, your majesty, that is the simple truth of the matter. As a kingdom Arendelle is simply not that important in the military sphere. We have fine warships, of course, and a coastal fort. But we lack soldiers enough to defend what we have, let alone to try and take what belongs to anyone else."

"So, what you are really saying then, Marshal, is that Arendelle has almost no military power, that our military is in dire straits if it were ever to be put into action?"

"While I am sure each and every soldier would give a good account of himself in battle, it is true. But, excuse me for being presumptuous in this case, our most powerful weapon sits at the head of this very table. You alone could freeze an invading fleet. You could bury any army with a great avalanche. Create a fortress of impregnable ice—like rumours say exist on the North—"

"Enough!" Elsa snapped, slamming her fist down on the table. Fractal skeins of ice shot halfway down the burnished wood before Elsa managed to bring her anger under control. To some degree. She was still angry enough to bite off every word when she was calm enough to speak again.

"I. Am. Not. A. Weapon!" the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. All of the council members shivered, staring at Elsa with naked fear. Elsa wished she could stand, make a statement by leaning half way over the able and whispering coldly to Marshal Gerhardt. But, she couldn't, so she settled for the next best thing—she calmed down. Papa always told her that a calm word while angry was worth more than a thousand angry screams.

"For the last twenty years I have fought to keep my powers secret. I have held myself back from everything normal people have. I drove away even those people I cared for most. I did this so I. Would. Not. Hurt. Them. Understand this, Marshal Gerhardt, for I will only say it once. I have fought for so long to _avoid_ my powers hurting anyone, that to do so deliberately would most likely destroy me as a person. Yet, you suggested it so casually—and no, I will not excuse your presumptuousness for such a statement. It flies in the face of everything a Queen is supposed to be.

"A _good_ Queen," Elsa stressed, fighting to keep her anger in check. Nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed with icy fury, the platinum haired, wheelchair bound, and ultimately terrifying Queen of Arendelle pointed to the door of the council chamber. "Get. Out."

Marshal Gerhardt didn't offer so much as a bow as he left. All eyes darted between him and Elsa. The screech of his chair against the wooden floor drowned out any sound. The Marshal stepped away from the table, moving as fast as decorum allowed. As the door closed behind him they could all hear rapidly receding footsteps. Elsa let out a heavy sigh, crossed her arms on the edge of the table, and lay her head against them.

Her very first council meeting, and she'd blown it. Maybe she should have tried ruling alone a little longer. Then she could have gone mad, and Anna could have—no, I wouldn't wish that on Anna, Elsa told herself. I wouldn't even wish this on my enemies. I would—the thought cut off as Elsa felt someone gently place a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see who it was, blinking back angry tears. Why couldn't these people leave her alone?

It was Søren. There was genuine concern on his face, and no small amount of fear either. But he had taken the chance. He had reached out to her. Elsa appreciated that. Was teaching herself to be able to appreciate the kindness of others. Whether or not she felt she deserved it at the time.

"Your majesty?" Elsa hadn't noticed how deep Søren's voice was before. Or how soothing. "Queen Elsa, are you alright?"

"No, I'm not. Can't you all see that?" Elsa shook her hands at them in frustration. "I'm not fit to be Queen. I keep messing things up."

"I should probably not tell you of my first week as a blacksmith then," Søren stage whispered. The other council members chuckled. It was a good story, whenever it was told.

"No one needs hear of my first diplomatic mission, back in eighteen-oh-five," Per added conspiriatorally.

"Or what happened when I tried to christen the Magnusson's third daughter," Bishop Gudbrand intoned dramatically. "The holy vestments had to be re-holied that week."

Elsa found herself starting to laugh. Then Justicar Kirstoffersen spoke. "And none shall hear of the wig-powder and gavel/cream fiasco."

That was too much. Elsa had no idea what these incidents actually _were_ , but they sounded, well, hilarious. And if her council could laugh with her—or was it at her?—so freely after such a display of her powers, well, maybe they didn't think she was that much of a screw-up. In fact, she realized, they had just been telling her that they too had screwed up, in impressive and amusing ways when they were just starting—and then Elsa understood. She understood what her council understood. They knew she would be a good queen, they also knew she wasn't there yet. They were telling her it was okay to mess up sometimes. To lose control a little bit.

That would explain the little drifts of snow piling up in the corner. With a little concentration Elsa managed to dispel the magic, thawing the table as well. The air remained a little chilly, but no one commented on that. Taking a deep breath gave Elsa a second to compose herself before speaking.

"I would li—No, I _have_ to to apologize for my outburst. Marshal Gerhardt hit a nerve with his rather insensitive comments, but the rest of you did not, should not have been in the line of fire as well. I saw the way you looked at me then—I know my powers can be frightening—but I also saw the way you tried to compare it to your first experiences with real responsibility. I would like to thank all of you for that. My control over my powers is better these days, but I'm still learning. And emotion still drives the extremes of my magic."

"Your majesty," Vanja Ostberg-Lang spoke up at last, having remained silent the entire meeting. "While your loss of control was indeed frightening, it was not, ultimately, unjustified. Marshal Gerhardt did, in fact, compare you to a tool. He called you a weapon, forgetting even for a moment that you are a person, equal to any other here. I am sure other members of the council wished to lash out at him as well"—Elsa saw Søren and Minister Johanssen shifting uncomfortably—"but they knew it was not their place. It was you the Marshal insulted. Thus, you had first right of redress against that slight.

"I will personally admit to being quite inspired by your speech," Vanja added, after everyone had taken their seats again. "Now, with everyone a little calmer and wiser, I assume that you, your majesty, will wish to divide the minutiae of ruling amongst the eligible members of this council?"

"Oh…" Elsa breathed, her brain scrambling to catch up to what had just been said. "Yes. Yes, I should delegate. Minister Johanssen, as you will be negotiating a trade treaty with Spain on my behalf, I assume you will wish to cover any current and future correspondence—if you consider yourself healthy enough?"

"Certainly, your majesty. Trade negotiations have been my life. I fear I've let them fall by the wayside recently with my illness. Well, no time like the present to get started. I'll arrange with the staff to get the appropriate items delivered to my office."

"There's an office here, if you prefer."

"I will take that into consideration. A gracious offer your majesty, but for the time being I would feel more comfortable working in my own offices."

"Very well, the offer remains open until you decide which would be better," Elsa nodded noncommittally, turning to Søren next. "Guildsman Søren, I must assume you already liaise with the castle's craftsmen, along with the rest of Arendelle. My summer storm has caused minor damage across the town, and while most people are content to put up a few extra boards themselves—"

"Queen Elsa, I have been handling most of those claims myself—well, via the guilds—the paperwork we have been sending you is mostly bills of trade and materials. Simply asking for recompense for what has been used out of our own stocks that we ourselves cannot replenish. I know it seems a lot, but the guilds have been at loggerheads recently, and I am still trying to get them to talk with each other. Like civilized people. If, by some miracle, I manage to do that, the amount of paperwork sent your way will drop considerably."

"Thank you Søren. Now, Justicar Kristoffersen?"

"Ah yes, I thought you might ask. I have a trio of very capable assistants I can put on most disputes and issues of public order. Plus, they kept complaining how quiet it was since you were made Queen. They'll regret those words," the Justicar rubbed his hands together with glee, a machiavellian smile spreading across his face. "Too quiet for their own good, oh yes…"

"That actually solves a lot of problems," Elsa admitted, silently thanking the Justicar. "Lastly, Bishop Gudbrand. These letters, these hateful notes piling up on my desk, would you help me deal with them?"

"How, your majesty?"

"With your next sermon. Perhaps dropping some not so subtle hints that not all magic is evil. I hear of these 'miracles' in your good book. Could my powers be one?"

"I… I am certain I can find some suitable allegory about the nature of hate, and the nature of love, and how being different is not always a bad thing."

Elsa looked over the faces of everyone still in the room. They were calm but determined. They would do their very best to make sure she could do her very best. It was enough for now. "Is there anything else?"

Shaking heads and quick statements informed her that was all. "Excellent. We will reconvene in… a week?"

"A week," they confirmed. Vanja Ostberg-Lang added: "Will we be inviting Marshal Gerhardt back?"

Elsa sighed. "Yes. We will. I, of all people, should know the value of second chances. So I'll give him a chance to apologize. To make amends. And if he still acts up, well, as Queen, I have the power to install a new Marshal, correct?"

"Correct," Vanja Ostberg-Lang assured her. "Though you do not want to be too hasty. Arendelle has few enough men with Gerhardt's experience in her military ranks. Fewer still with his ability to lead men in battle."

"Noted," Elsa said solemnly as they all filed out of the council chamber. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sister to find."


	13. Looking In

Anna finally admitted it to herself. She was, in fact, having fun. Not just because they were currently chasing each other through the edge of the forest either. She was having fun because she was with Kristoff, not Elsa. And that thought stopped her cold. So cold, in fact, that she was blindsided by Kristoff's tackle, both of them sprawling in the loamy soil beneath the trees. Anna's eyes were a little unfocused.

"Anna, Princess Anna?" Kristoff immediately became concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Anna laughed it off, already dusting herself down as she stood. "Just lost in thought."

"I thought that was your sister's thing?"

"I was just thinking about us. You and me. Me and her. You and her. And I—well, I don't know—I'm…"

"It's okay," Kristoff placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He managed to get away with placing the other at her waist. "I mean, I really do like you, a lot. And your sister—Queen Elsa, when she's not… well—not being all Queen-y, she seems alright. Am I supposed to like her?"

"We did get you a new sled."

"Which, don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for, but it was kind of expected, seeing as how you had a hand in destroying my old one."

"So you need a real reason to like Elsa?" Anna took a deep breath, walking towards the fields beyond the forest. "Fine. Because she's my sister."

"But I—umm, how can I put this?"

"Carefully?" Anna suggested, her tone light.

"I don't know if I like your sister. I mean, I kind of have to like Queen Elsa—she's the Queen. But regular Elsa?" Kristoff began thoughtfully "I don't even know her beyond a few words. I don't even know you that well either—but I like you, and I _want_ to get to know you."

"So why don't you want to get to know Elsa?"

"I do!" Kristoff complained. "That's the problem."

"Why is that a problem?" Anna asked from the edge of the woods.

"Because I'm afraid."

"You're scared of her? Her powers? I can't beli—"

"No, no, not like that. I'm afraid of you."

Anna couldn't help but laugh. A deep belly laugh that went on and on. She put her hand out, her right hand—again—and fell headfirst against the nearest tree. She looked up at the tree as if it had betrayed her, and not her instincts. "Ow."

Then she looked at Kristoff, now helping her up. "But why would you be afraid of _me?_ "

"I saw how you handled Hans of the Southern Isles. Don't want to be on the receiving end of that. Also, I was afraid you might get jealous."

"Huh?"

"Ice is my _life_ , Anna. I'm an ice harvester. I can do a little sculpture. Still rough. But your sister—uhh, Elsa, her ice is… well, you saw the palace. I meant what I said."

"Still not getting it," and honestly, she wasn't. Being stuck in a castle—even if she could roam the grounds freely—for thirteen years meant subtlety was often lost on her. She talked with portraits far more than she'd ever read. Elsa never has these problems, she thought to herself. No, another voice said. She has new ones now, but she lets you help.

"Fine," Kristoff sighed heavily, looking the one-armed, red haired princess in her bright blue eyes. "I'm afraid I might like your sister more than you."

Anna thumped him square in the chest. "Don't be silly. No one likes my sister more than m—oh. Oh. I get it now. Uhh, sorry, did I hit you hard?"

"It's okay," Kristoff lied, massaging his chest and wincing. The Princess of Arendelle really was surprisingly strong.

"Sorry I hit you like that," Anna apologized, gently rubbing Kristoff's chest where she hit him. "It's just… I love my sister. I really do. I'd do anything for her, but I guess you already know that. You saw me on the ice. Saw what Hans—anyway, you know, right?"

"I know," Kristoff replied, gently moving Anna's hand away from his chest. "Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why the black dress today?"

"Oh, uhh," Anna looked at herself, the sleeves of her dress and hem of the skirt. She'd forgotten what she was wearing, and Kristoff hadn't brought it up when they met in town. It hadn't seemed important at the time. "Well, I was helping Elsa say goodbye this morning. Umm, it was to—we were—you remember, umm—our parents, the King and Queen?"

Kristoff knew. Everyone knew about the accident. It was one of the darkest days in the kingdom's history. To lose the King and Queen on the same day. Anna went there today, Kristoff was starting to put things together in his head. With Elsa. And they said goodbye, and… "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Anna looked puzzled.

"Your parents. It was today, wasn't it?"

"No, a few weeks later. It's just, well, Elsa wanted—needed to say goodbye. She never did before. She didn't even know where the graves were and that's… well that was the saddest part," Anna could feel tears welling up. "Three years. She didn't ask once. And I didn't think to tell her. What kind of sister am I?"

"The good kind. I mean, you're taking care of her, right?" Kristoff tried to be soothing. "You're helping her. With everything you can. I know how much you love her, and that's why… well, that's why I've tried to take you away from her as little as possible. I feel like—sometimes I feel—well, I guess… it's kinda like I don't want to be the guy—umm, I don't want you to have to choose."

"Choose?" Anna sniffled a little, wiping away her tears.

"I mean, between her, or me," Kristoff clarified. "I mean, obviously I'd lose that one. But it might hurt you, and I don't ever want to hurt you like that, because I love you."

Kristoff's jaw dropped when he realized what he'd just said. He hadn't meant to say it quite like that. To be that forthcoming. He couldn't take it back either. It was true. The ice harvester just stood there, frozen. Until Anna reached up to kiss him on the cheek. All the worries melted away.

"I think I love you too," Anna whispered in his ear, then playfully slapped him on the back, before running into the woods. "Now let's see if you can catch your true love before she gets away again."

* * *

Late afternoon found Anna and Kristoff lying beneath the trees, staring through the leaves at the patches of sky they could see through the canopy. They had a lot of fun, playing hide and seek, chasing, tag—at which Sven was apparently an expert, and several games of Anna's own invention. Most of which involved lots of running, laughing, and general chaos. She was still picking a few twigs out of her braids from the last game. Sven was curled up nearby, pretending to sleep while watching them. Anna finally took note of how low the sun was in the sky.

"I should get back, Elsa probably needs me. I'm kinda hungry too."

Kristoff took a carrot out of his satchel, offered it to her. She waved it away. She knew what happened to carrots with Sven around.

"No? Okay." Kristoff bit the carrot in half, then threw the rest to Sven. The reindeer caught it in mid-air. "Good catch buddy. Keep your energy up, we'll be going back soon."

"I wish I could spend the night with you," Anna said suddenly. "But—oh, hey, not like that! Anyway, Elsa really does need my help. Oh, fine, she has Gerda, but that's—okay, I don't know what that is. But I think she likes when I help her. I know _I_ like helping her."

"You like helping _everyone_ ," Kristoff corrected. "Not that that's a bad thing. I mean, more people could be like you, and that'd be amazing. But, oh, you know what I mean."

"I guess," Anna shrugged, standing slowly. "Can we go back now?"

"Sure, sure. Just give Sven a minute or two to stretch and get harnessed up," Kristoff turned to the reindeer. "C'mon buddy, time to do some work. We have a princess to deliver."

Sven leapt to his feet, prancing energetically towards the sled. Kristoff had to admit he'd never seen anyone else that Sven respected that much. Then again, there weren't a lot of people he and Sven knew all that well. Anna was one of something like three people he really, really knew on some level. Ingvar, a fellow ice harvester, was another. The third was a guard, Erik, or maybe Erik-something-or-other, that kept him from the docks on occasion—okay, he honestly only knew that man well enough to be able to dislike him, but it counted.

* * *

Dusk found them at the castle, Elsa waiting once more at the gates. She wore a simple blue dress that sparkled in the twilight—obviously another one of her famous ice dresses—and, Anna noticed, her hair was down, loose and flowing over her shoulders. That wasn't like her prim and proper sister. Not like her at all.

"Wow," Kristoff breathed. "Your majesty, you look… amazing."

"Thank you Kristoff," Elsa bowed slightly, as much as her chair allowed. "I trust you kept my sister safe and entertained?"

"Safe, yes. But she did most of the entertaining. Have you _seen_ her games?"

Anna punched him in the arm as Elsa laughed happily. "I have. Some of them. Does she still change the rules every five minutes?"

"Hey!"

"Yeah, she does."

"It makes things more fun."

"Anna, if the rules keep changing, you can't know when you've won."

"They're games, Elsa, you're not supposed to win, you're supposed to be having fun."

"Whatever you say. Come back inside, it's getting a little chilly out here."

"I thought the cold didn't bother you?"

"I'm thinking of you and your boyfriend there."

"Wait, you want me to come in too?"

"Yes, mister Bjorgman, I do. I've had the cooks prepare us an informal dinner. I… well, I'd like to know you better Kristoff. Anna has a head start there of course, and I'd never take that away from her, but if you're going to be around more often, well, I feel I should know you better."

"I, uh…" Kristoff turned to Anna for guidance. "Is this okay with you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Mind the floor," Elsa warned casually as they entered the castle. The great hall was covered in ice. So were all the hallways leading from it. Massive pillars of ice shot up to support the ceiling, their shadows adding a sense of grandeur to the hall, and a little tingle of foreboding. Two uniquely beautiful ice chandeliers hung from the arched roof. Braziers along the walls spread a soft light, the gaslamps overhead turned off.

"Elsa," Anna whispered, full of awe. "What… why?"

"We have guests. In the castle."

"Guests…?" Anna repeated.

"Well, a guest," Elsa winked at Kristoff, hoping her sister didn't see. She wasn't so lucky.

"All this, for Kristoff?"

"He saved your life, after I nearly killed you a second time. No matter what I do, I can never, _never_ thank him enough."

"But you helped with the sled. You gave him a title, Elsa. He understands how grateful you are."

Elsa shook her head, sadness playing across her face. "No, he doesn't. Because you don't either. Without you, I wouldn't be here."

"I know," Anna knelt down to hug her sister, speaking softly. "I love you, Elsa."

"You don't know. You remember that night?"

"Which night?"

"Just after… well, just before you sang to me, what I told you?"

"Still not really clear."

"I said 'I gave up', after Hans told me you were dead. Without you Anna, without you, life just… well… it wasn't…"

"Don't you dare say it Elsa," Anna admonished her sister. "I know _exactly_ what you're talking about. And as your sister, I absolutely cannot stand to hear you talk like that. You're a survivor, Elsa. You always have been. You think I'm the strong one—I had people around me. Well, servants and staff I could talk to. You… you had to do it all alone. That makes you stronger than me."

"No, it doesn't," Elsa whispered back softly. "Because it broke me."

Anna stepped back, looked at her sister with a critical eye. Aside from a few unshed tears she didn't _look_ very broken. "You're okay _now_ , right?"

"I'm trying to be Anna, I really am. I met with the council around lunch time," Elsa sighed. "It made things so much easier. Trade, laws, running the state. It gave me more time, took the pressure off. It made things easier, but all that time… well, it gave me too much time to think. And you know what happens then…"

"You. Stinker," Anna slapped her sister. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Elsa rubbed her cheek. "All this time, and you still—ugh. I'm sorry… I just—"

Still rubbing her cheek, Elsa smiled up at her sister. "Okay, maybe I needed that. But, seriously, it has only been a week. I—we, have a lot to deal with. A lot happened in those thirteen years. I want to make up for it. I want to be a better sister, but I keep seeing—oh, dammit, I see us, okay. Us, back then. I was eight. I was so scared. I'm still scared Anna. I never want to hurt you like that again. I just… I never want to hurt you."

"Then stop shutting me out," Anna's tone softened immediately when she realized what she'd just said. "I mean, I can handle it Elsa. All of it, if you'd just let me."

Sitting at the table, Kristoff spoke, breaking the tension in the room. "Umm, am I helping here, or just waiting for the food?"

The sisters laughed. Elsa spoke first. "I guess you can help later. We're all waiting for the food."

"We're not finished with this talk," Anna promised her sister. "But we can still enjoy dinner, right?"

"Right," Elsa agreed. Kristoff nodded from the far end of the table. He envied the bond the sisters had. It also gave him a great respect for them. It was the kind of bond he and Sven had. The kind he never wanted to break. The kind he never wanted to come between. But if his feelings for Anna were real, and if her feelings were for him, he was afraid—very afraid—that he might be the wedge that finally drove them apart forever.

No, he told himself quietly. If it comes to that… I'll… I'll leave. Anna deserves her happiness more than I do.


	14. The Bathtime Bandit

Kristoff had enjoyed dinner. For Anna and her sister, Queen Elsa, it might have been normal. To Kristoff, it was honestly the best meal he had ever had. Also, the largest. He hadn't realized before today what a four course meal was. Perhaps, he considered, he had eaten more than he should have—the sisters seemed to enjoy smaller portions. Well, Elsa seemed to savour her food more that way.

Anna, Kristoff couldn't help but notice, ate with what could only be called gusto. He couldn't remember what the cooks had called that meat, but Anna had eaten a very large piece of it. Then came dessert. Chocolate, of course. As they ate, Kristoff listened to the way they tried to mend the rift between them. It was still a little rough, from what he got. But he was sure they'd get there, in time. If the trolls had taught him nothing else—they had, but a lot of it was actually rather specific to trolls—it was that love could mend almost anything. Kristoff smiled idly and took a chocolate from the pile in the centre of the table.

"What about you?" Kristoff froze, chocolate halfway to his mouth when he realized the question had been directed at him.

"What about me?" he repeated, stalling for time. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"I was wondering if you enjoyed dinner," Elsa repeated.

"I—yes. It was very… umm, large. And filling. I only have room left for this," Kristoff finally bit down on the chocolate he was holding. It was filled with a zesty, gooey orange liqueur. "Wow."

Anna laughed, grabbing another chocolate. "I'm guessing you didn't know about liqueurs before, Kristoff?"

"Well, kind of," Kristoff swallowed the last of the chocolate. "The trolls make some amazing fruit stuff. I just—well, I never thought of putting it inside a chocolate."

"I seem to recall you bringing someone home under the influence of that," Elsa spoke, surreptitiously grabbing another chocolate herself. Smaller portions had the advantage of giving her more room for dessert. At least, that was what she'd always told herself.

"I was only a little tipsy," Anna corrected. Then looked to Kristoff for confirmation. "Wait, you drank the green stuff. Why weren't you drunk?"

"'cause I only had a couple of drinks, Princess feistypants. I also didn't go around trying a little from every shade of green they put in a cup."

"But… but I…"

"Green's her favourite colour," Elsa stage whispered.

"After she tried the forest spirit I think she turned a little green."

"Hey, you said you wouldn't tell."

"Did I?"

"Well… okay, I didn't want you to tell."

"Wait, wait," Elsa held up her hands, seeking clarification. "She went a little green, or actually turned the colour green?"

"Bit of both," Kristoff said off-handedly. "So did the fores—ow."

A hard chocolate had just bounced from Kristoff's forehead. He stared directly at the culprit. Then he decided another chocolate might fit. Just.

"Anyway, you said you were going to tell her."

"Tell me what?"

"Okay, fine," Anna huffed, throwing her hand in the air. "I drank too much. Or that forest-y stuff was bad—or something all the green things—anyway, I kinda threw up a little bit. But I was fine after, so it had to be the forest-y stuff. Totally that."

"I did notice you taking extra special care on the stairs that night," Elsa winked at her sister. "Speaking of nights, Kristoff, do you have anywhere to stay tonight?"

"I have a place," Kristoff nodded. By place he meant barn. By have he meant 'use until someone finds me'. It was how he slept in town a lot of the time. Some folks didn't even bother throwing him out now.

"Is it far?"

"Not too far," he assured Elsa.

"We have a spare room," Anna cut in. "Lots of spare rooms. You can use one of them if you want. Sven can sleep in the stables. I'm sure the horses won't mind, right Elsa?"

Elsa said nothing.

"Elsa?"

"Oh, no, the horses shouldn't mind. But Kristoff doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want to."

"Aww," Anna's whining sounded adorable to Elsa at that moment.

"I don't know if I should stay," Kristoff faced the sisters. "I mean, it's great, you're great—a bed in a castle… a real bed… but—living rough is kinda my thing. Makes going home better, you know?"

"You're sure, not even one night here?"

"I'm not sure. I love the offer. It's amazing, it's just… if I get too comfortable and I have to leave—for work, or… stuff, then what am I supposed to do?"

"Just one night," Anna insisted. "It's not gonna change you. Sleep with us in the castle. El-sa, behave—oh, I said it like _that_ , didn't I?"

Anna couldn't help but notice Kristoff was blushing almost badly as her sister. "Oh come on, it's not that bad."

"I surrender," Kristoff held his hands high. "One night, sleeping with a princess."

He winked. Anna sighed, blushing furiously, placed her head in her hand and rested her elbow on the table. Down the other end of the table she noticed Elsa _not_ going all overprotective big sister against Kristoff. In fact she was giggling. She took a moment to smooth her dress, school her features into those of a regal young woman.

"Nothing happens that Anna doesn't want to happen," Elsa spoke clearly, all levity gone from her voice. Then she turned to her sister. "Nothing happens that Kristoff doesn't want to happen either."

Anna and Kristoff looked at the Queen, slightly puzzled. they turned to look at each other. Then back at the Queen.

"Whatever happens—or does not happen—I do not want to know. It's your business," Elsa finally winked at the pair. "You're good people. Don't rush this."

* * *

Later, in her room, Elsa was undressing—easier with ice-based clothing, as she could use her magic to move it—when there was a knock at the door. She was concentrating, her dress already well over her head, so any reply was muffled. She heard the door creak open. Footsteps, and the dress started moving upward without the help of her magic.

"It's okay to ask for help," Anna looked down at her sister. "Umm, did you want help? I guess I should've asked first."

"Well, I needed a bath. I—" Elsa looked at her sister, the odd twig and leaf still stuck in her braid. The dirt smudged on her nose, cheek, and the back of her hand. " _You_ need a bath. And to wash your hair."

"I know," Anna moaned. "I was gonna have one later. Really. I was."

"Uh huh," Elsa was not convinced. Then an idea occurred to her. It was innocent enough, right? "Why don't we take a bath together? I was going to need help anyway, and you, well would you like help doing your hair?"

Anna stood, uncertain. This was not why she'd come to see Elsa but… well, the worst that could happen would be Elsa freezing the bath, right? "I—okay. You have a spare robe, or should I run and grab one of mine?"

"I've got spares," Elsa assured her, then wheeled herself to the bathroom door. "Gerda, Anna's here, she'll be helping me tonight."

"Very well your majesty. Will you or Princess Anna require anything else?"

"Anna?" Elsa called over her shoulder.

"Oh, no, we're fine Gerda, thanks."

Elsa was already in the bathroom, swirling one hand in the hot water. Quite hot, but not uncomfortably so. Her unconscious powers sometimes did things, which meant the bath really did need to be that hot. Just in case. She had already taken off her bra by the time Anna walked in, throwing her dress—the black mourning dress—in a heap on the floor. As she nervously shucked off the rest of her clothing, Anna caught her sister staring at her. There was a look in Elsa's eyes she couldn't quite place. Something between desire, longing, and… fear?

"Elsa?" she asked quietly.

"Anna, I—" Elsa blushed. Well, it was the first time she'd seen her sister naked. As an adult, at least. Bathtime had been shared on occasion with baby Anna.

"What?" Anna asked delicately, blushing a little herself. She'd seen Elsa naked before—well, you kind of had to be to take a bath, but this felt different somehow.

"It's just… I've never seen you like this before," Elsa gestured at her sister's body. "You're beautiful Anna. Quite the young lady."

"And you, you're—uh, more beautiful Elsa. You're a Queen. _The_ Queen. Is it getting warm in here? Am I rambling?"

"It is a little strange," Elsa admitted. "But you've always been like that—I mean, it's an amazing thing, and you've always liked stranger stuff than me, but…"

"It's okay Elsa," Anna patted her sister on the shoulder, before helping remove her last item of clothing and depositing her in the bath. "I mean, yeah, I am kinda strange, but the good kind. The kind people like, like they think is funny or something. I mean it's no big deal, supposed to be able to laugh at yourself, miss 'no leg to stand on'."

"And they said words were 'armless," Elsa giggled, putting on a terrible accent. Anna laughed too, dispelling the tension in the room as she slipped into the bath.

"Wow, hot hot hot hot," Anna winced as she submerged herself in the water. "Does it really have to be this hot?"

Elsa nodded. "Hotter water makes it harder for my powers to freeze the bath. I learned that a long time ago. Sat there for hours until it unfroze."

"Weren't you—no, nevermind. You don't feel cold."

Elsa smiled, lathering the soap up and down her arms. In short order she was covered in a thin layer of foam that hid absolutely nothing. Anna let out a little laugh. It looked liker her sister was dressed in soap.

"What?" Elsa asked innocently, a smirk tugging the corner of her lips.

"Are you washing up or dressing up?" Anna asked, stealing the soap for herself.

"Speak for yourself," Elsa retorted, seeing her sister drawing a bubbly moustache and beard on her face. A classical, twirly moustache. "So you're the bathtime bandit?"

"Oh no, I've been caught!" Anna flailed her arm around, melodramatically slipping beneath the surface of the bath. Rising a few seconds later, she wiped the soap from her face. "They'll never see through this cunning disguise."

"Never," Elsa agreed. "Considering the bandit now looks like a woman."

"This kind of thing never happened to Flynn Rider," Anna bemoaned, still using the bandit voice.

"Are they real?" Elsa asked, still playing along, reaching out a hand to touch her sister's breast. She froze. So did the water around her ankles. She felt nothing.

"Elsa?" Anna asked tentatively, gently lowering her sister's arm into the water.

"I–I…" Elsa trailed off, helpless. What could she possibly say?

Anna cocked her head sideways, as if looking at Elsa from a different angle might reveal something new. It let her see the ice around her sister's feet. "Are you okay? Wait, cold feet?"

Elsa looked down, laughing. Then she frowned. How had the ice formed there? She knew she couldn't do the magic with her feet, with her legs anymore. She couldn't even feel the ice. The only way she knew it was there was by looking it at. It didn't make any sense. Lost in thought, Anna's next question didn't seem to make sense either.

"Why did you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"You were reaching out to touch me, and you just, well, froze—sorry, bad choice of words."

"No, it's okay Anna. I did–I do want to touch you. It's just… well…"

"What, Elsa?" Anna spoke softly. "I thought we were past secrets—oh, is this about this morning, that thing you couldn't tell me?"

"Yes," Elsa sighed after a long pause, blushing.

"Wait, why are _you_ blushing?"

"Because, well, you're here Anna. And we've been close. I mean really close, for a week now. I love it. I love you. And I hate keeping this from you, so—please don't hate me, or leave me—but we've been so close, and I was thinking and that always leads to things and I wondered what it would be like if you were a man, or just a friend or… or…"

Anna's brow furrowed, staring at her sister in utter consternation. All this, simply because she'd wanted to _touch_ her? Because Elsa wanted to touch her. Touch. Her.

"Elsa, you really…?" Anna wasn't sure how to ask the question, let alone wonder how it might be answered.

"I—ugh, I don't _know!_ "Elsa balled her hands into fists. "I like you. And yes, I wanted to touch you, but I can't. It's wrong. We're sisters! But I don't know if I like anyone that way. You're the only person I've been close to in thirteen _years_. And… and… I'm just confused okay Anna. Please, please don't hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" Anna's voice was full of concern and confusion. "I could never hate you."

"Even after…?"

"I love you Elsa. Really, I do. Well, not touching like _that_ , but… I love you."

Elsa wrapped her sister in a hug. A warm hug. A sisterly hug. It was nothing more. Despite their nakedness, the closeness of their bodies. It was just a hug. Slightly damp, admittedly, but they were, after all, in a bath. After they broke apart, Anna asked another, harder question.

"What about men?"

"I don't _know_ any men," Elsa spread her arms and shrugged hopelessly. "I mean, I kinda know Kristoff now, but he's yours."

"And I'd thank you to remember that," Anna said firmly, giving her sister a playful slap. "Maybe you should find a man, get to know him—take longer than a few minutes and a song before you decide to marry him."

Elsa smiled, glad that Anna could poke fun at her experiences. "Well, there might be a man, maybe even two, I could talk with."

"Ooh, ooh, tell me more," Anna pressed up against her sister, trying to be part of the conspiracy.

"Well," Elsa drawled, motioning for Anna to take her hair—and the shampoo. "There's a guard—uh, no, he's a Royal Marine. Erikson, lieutenant. Tall, slim"—Elsa traced a silhouette with her hands and winked—"easy on the eyes."

"And the other one?" Anna pressed, massaging shampoo into Elsa's platinum tresses.

"Søren Skeggisomething. Guildsman. He's huge. Well, really, really tall. Probably taller than Erikson is. He's got red hair like you. Messy like yours too… and that beard," Elsa sighed.

"I never knew you had a thing for beards."

"Neither did I."

"Never knew you liked girls either," Anna said lightly, gently caressing her sister's face.

"I didn't know what I liked," Elsa admitted. "I still don't. I was too busy concealing. Concealing everything. Trying to keep my power in check. Trying not to hurt people. I never really had time to think about love. Not really. I just didn't think it was possible for me."

"Because you thought you were a monster," Anna finished for her sister, rinsing her hair clean. "Hey, keep talking, you can do my hair now."

"You're letting me touch you, after…?"

"What, Elsa?" Anna was exasperated. "We're sisters. I mean, I wasn't expecting it. It might even have been nice—but not now. Now I'm just letting you wash my hair. I might let you touch other things later."

"Wait, are you trying to stop or me tease me?"

"Both," Anna sounded disappointed in herself. "I can't help it Elsa. When you're not worried, when you're in the moment, you're really fun to be around. Well, unless you're surrounded by paperwork of course. But, I mean, one day… maybe. It wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Elsa was running her fingers through Anna's hair, luxuriating in the feel of it, untangling it before she grabbed the shampoo. She whispered, daring to ask. "You mean…?"

"Yes, blargh, that water tastes like soap. Anyway, yes. I mean just once right. Get it out of your system. But then I guess you gotta do the same thing with a man. Figure out what you like better."

Elsa felt like braining her sister with the shampoo at that point. "Did you just—are you giving me advice on how to—Anna!"

Anna just giggled, slipping beneath the water quite deliberately this time. Elsa reached down to lift her back up, almost overbalancing and slipping under herself. Where her hands ended up was not a matter of choice. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. Anna slapped her anyway. But it was a playful kind of slap, not really that hard.

"Just can't help yourself," Anna admonished her sister, giggling. "I guess me and the girls will have to sleep with Kristoff tonight, if you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"You have one hand," Elsa retorted. "And it must have a mind of its own then. I remember what happened last time you helped me with the bath."

"Oh, I should have let you fall in?"

"No, but… I didn't know you were that jealous of them."

"Oh please…" Anna started. She couldn't finish because, well, Elsa was right. Anna had envied her sister's bust. For some time. She wanted a chest like that. And, Anna realized, not in the same way Elsa wanted a chest like hers. "Okay, fine. Maybe I am a little jealous. I'm also about to leave, the water's getting cold, and I'm clean enough. Bathrobe?"

"In the cupboard there. On the left, folded next to the—yeah, that's it. Grab a towel—grab two, I'll need one once you get me out of here."

Not another word was spoken as the sisters dried themselves off, with each others' help. Nightgowns were next, Anna succumbing to laziness and just borrowing one of Elsa's. They were both lying on Elsa's bed.

"I thought you were going to sleep with Kristoff?"

"Nah," Anna waved a hand in the air. "But I might sleep in my own bed—nothing personal or anything about what happened in there, I just don't wanna hit you in my sleep. Again."

"I think I'll be okay on my own," Elsa patted her sister on the shoulder. "I managed for thirteen years. I'm sure I can do it for one night. Plus, now I know you're just down the hall, and I don't have to lock my door to keep you safe. I feel better when you're close."

"Of course you do," Anna said, tripping over the covers as she made to leave. "I'm lucky."

"You know, the duvet is supposed to be on top of you, not the other way round," Elsa laughed at her sister.

"Yeah, lets fix that," Anna said playfully, pulling the covers up over Elsa and tucking her in so tight she could barely move. "That seem right?"

A muffled voice came from under the blankets. "Very funny."

An arm peeked from under the blankets, pointing at the door. The voice following it was muffled but playful. "Go to your room."

Anna laughed, half skipping for the door, closing it quietly behind her. It didn't occur to her that she'd just shut the door to her sister's room. That she'd been the one to close the door this time. It also didn't occur to the young princess that she'd done so with absolutely no fear of the door not opening again.


	15. Steam & Shadows

"Hi Elsa!" Elsa's morning of paperwork—thankfully much less than before with the council handling matters now—was interrupted by something small, white, and annoyingly happy. And it was still talking. "No one needs to use the southwest corridor to the banquet hall. It was like that when I got there. The table only had three legs anyway. Not enough legs."

Olaf's eyes were darting from side to side. "And whatever happens, there's no need to look behind the third curtain on the left. No need at all."

Elsa frowned at the snowman, knowing full well she'd need to inspect the corridor later. There was something else that looked wrong though. "Olaf, where's your nose?"

Stick hands patted at his face, and finding a vital appendage missing, Olaf screamed. Running from the room, he spoke quickly. "Gotta find it. It's not in the southwest corridor. You won't find me there. Or my nose. Wauh! What if someone ate it?!"

Olaf's head rolled the wrong way past the still open door to the study. A second later the rest of the snowman plowed into the doorjamb.

"Left, no, no, _my_ left, not your left!"

"Oh, hi Olaf, lemme help you there," red braids swung past the door as Anna placed Olaf's head back on his misguided body. "Hey, what happened to your nose?"

Another scream, and Olaf sprinted down the hall. Anna looked in on her sister.

"We need to avoid the southwest corridor to the banquet hall," Elsa said. "Which means Olaf has caused a minor disaster down there."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad," Anna's reply was immediately countered by the sound of screaming and running footsteps. And hooves. A white blur passed the door. Then a blur in a grey suit. Then a light brown blur with antlers—wait, what? Anna looked back into the hall. Olaf ran screaming through the door.

"Hide me. You gotta hide me. Sven wants to _eat_ my _nose!_ " At this latest outburst, Sven poked his head through the door to the study, looking left and right like a dog searching for a bone. Olaf was currently hiding next to Elsa, tugging at her dress. "Also, the southeast corridor is totally Sven's fault."

Elsa's exasperated scream cut everything else off. Six inches of her desk iced over, as did some of the floor. It wasn't nearly as much ice as she was afraid she might create. It also meant she really was getting stressed out by the crazy this morning. Had everyone just decided to go mad after breakfast?

"Oh, Elsa," Anna danced clumsily away from Sven's antlers. "I just came to tell you that me and Kristoff are going out for a little while. You'll be okay, right?"

"If I haven't gone mad by the time you get back, I'll let you know," Elsa said, only half-joking. How on earth was she going to sort out _this_ mess. She didn't just mean the spectre of paperwork either—some dark and demanding paperwork at that. What she really needed was some time outside the castle. Clear her head. Let Kai deal with the mess in the halls, it _was_ his job, and he had complained recently about how clean Elsa was keeping everything. Elsa had a feeling he'd regret that complaint today, although that wasn't really fair to the man.

"Okay," Anna said brightly, waving as she left the room. "Me and Kristoff will be back after lunch, okay?"

"Go, have your fun," Elsa waved her sister off. "Get out of here before the crazy gets you too."

Anna left without another word. Sven backed into the hall, and was then hauled away by Kristoff, and Elsa heard the ice harvester saying something about bolting and antlers breaking and having enough carrots without stealing noses. Was this how it started?

A loud crash echoed through the halls, and a dented helmet rolled past the still open door.

Elsa cradled her head in her hands, leaning on the desk. "I need a drink."

That was definitely how it started.

* * *

The morning wore on, and Anna finally found out where Kristoff was taking her. She'd been there before, in fact. On that night. Of course, it had been snowing then, but the little shop still looked just as inviting.

"Hoo Hoo, big summer blowout!" even the voice coming from behind the counter was the same. It was like deja vu, except everything was warm this time. "We have half off clogs, trunks and a sun—you called me crook."

Kristoff held out his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry Oaken. Really sorry. I was just—okay, I _was_ rude."

Oaken hadn't stopped. He didn't stop until Anna stood between him and Kristoff. "Hey, I'm the Princess, and that's my friend, so you gotta be nice."

"He called me a crook," Oaken leaned down so he could look the red haired princess in the eye. She didn't back down.

"So he was a little stressed about his job being all in jeopardy and stuff. I mean, if someone anchored a huge trade ship next to your shop, you'd be a little stressed too, right?"

"No. Wandering Oaken's only has finest wares in town. And best Lutefisk in all Arendelle," Oaken held out a quart of the vile smelling 'food'.

"I'll pass," Anna said, gently lowering the lutefisk back to the counter. "And Kristoff is sorry he called you a crook."

"I—yes. I'm very sorry I called you a crook Oaken," Kristoff coughed. "But really, forty for all that, it's—"

Kristoff rubbed the back of his head where Anna had slapped him. She whistled nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

"Oaken, do you still have the dress I left here?"

"Of course. Cannot sell wares so damaged. I was waiting for seamstress to fix befor—for you."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't dare se—ow! Stop that."

"Well, you're really not helping yourself if you keep talking here. Oaken already threw you out once, I don't want you getting thrown out before you show me why we're here."

"Umm," Kristoff placed some coins on the counter. Oaken hurried back behind the wooden barrier.

"You are here to buy, yes?"

"Sort of—umm, sauna?"

"Oh, ya," Oaken rapped against the door. "Hoo hoo, visitors."

Three men filed out, wrapped in towels and covered in sweat. Each of them grabbed another towel from a rack on the wall, then headed for the cooling room.

"You want clean towels, ya?" Oaken reached under the counter to hand both Anna and Kristoff a bundle of white towels. "Clothes here. I find Princess' dress while you relax."

Undressing behind a screen, Anna wrapped herself in one of the towels. It had been some time since she'd been to a real sauna. She didn't know if this counted though. It was nice, but it was on the back of a shop. She was going to get her dress back though. Elsa would like that, it would show her Anna could remember to be responsible—okay, she could remember it sometimes. Placing her clothes in the rack, trying to keep her towel up just using her elbow, Anna walked into the sauna, making sure to close the door quickly.

It was hot. And steamy. The air was a little misty, but that was fine. She ladled more water onto the stones and was rewarded with a sizzling noise. She felt her hair, the steam was already making it go frizzy. She sighed, well, it didn't matter. It just felt so nice. Anna spread a towel out on the middle bench, and was almost surprised to hear the door open until she remembered Kristoff was with her.

He was only wearing a towel. Somehow, he made that towel look very good. What it wasn't covering was even better. He wasn't even bothering to show off, she knew. He didn't have to. A lifetime harvesting ice would make a man. And Kristoff was a very well made man. Aside from the nose, and the really scruffy hair, Anna wondered if this was the type of person all those sculptures were based on.

Kristoff spread another towel across the top bench, climbing past Anna to lie on it. He was quite pointedly _not_ looking at her. Anna looked down. Her towel had slipped. She'd tried cinching it, but it was hard to do with one hand. Blushing a little, she turned away and tried again. On the third attempt the towel held its place as she took a step forward, then backwards. Satisfied, Anna exhaled and lay on the towel she had placed earlier.

All Anna could hear now was the sound of her and Kristoff's breathing. The occasional sizzle came from the stones. None of that really mattered. She was here to relax. More than usual. Well, the idea was to stop moving, and that was kind of hard for her. She liked moving, blitzing her way through everything. She was learning the virtues of patience. Elsa was making sure of that. Anna recalled the bath from the previous night. It had been fun, at first. Then Elsa made it awkward. Tried to downplay everything. Anna could recall having suggested something—and now she realized she might actually have been serious.

Which was weird, because serious and Anna didn't normally belong in the same sentence. Unless someone was telling her to be serious. But she was with Kristoff. She even planned to do things with him. Unmentionable things. Okay, things Elsa didn't want mentioned while she was listening. Anna didn't really get what the big deal was. People did it all the time—it was supposed to be _fun_ after all. Anyone who had a baby had to have done it at least once. Maybe Elsa's just a prude, Anna decided after her deliberations. Or really shy.

Putting those thoughts aside, Anna slowly stretched, then stood, luxuriating in the warmth of the sauna. It wasn't quite hot enough though. The red haired princess ladled more water on to the stones. The hiss of escaping steam was like a seductive whisper. Anna felt warm all over. She looked up at Kristoff, lying on the top bench. He was staring, only his head turned to look at her. He looked away quickly. Again? was her only thought.

Her towel had wound up on the floor. Again. She bent low to retrieve it. Then she wondered why she was hiding. Kristoff was her boyfriend—well, that's what others had been telling her recently. He had saved her life—in a way, Elsa had explained during that dinner. He had… Anna wondered then. Had he actually earned the right to look upon her? A short tally of evidence suggested he had. He was still pointedly not looking at her naked body. Anna lay on the bench once more, draping the other towel with an artless grace that left certain pieces of her anatomy a little more exposed.

"So," Anna said finally. "What's it like being an ice harvester?"

"It's…" Kristoff stared at the ceiling, shaking his hands while trying to find the right words. "Rewarding, I guess is the right word. I feel like I'm doing something useful, something good. Don't have to think too much—just keep yourself safe, and keep working. Then you take your ice, take your sled, and head into town. Whichever town you like really. There's less of us these days than there are towns. But we make do. And we've got apprentices to train—okay, I don't have an apprentice, but a few of the other harvesters do."

"You also take care of reindeer," Anna pointed out, noticing that Kristoff was _still_ not looking at her.

"That's… well that's different. That's a Kristoff thing, not an ice harvester thing. My family—what I think I can remember of it before the trolls took us in, had papa as an ice harvester, and my mother was a herder. Reindeer. I was very young. I don't really know what happened, not for sure. The ice harvesters let me follow them for a while, Sven too. Then the trolls found us… or we found them and—" Kristoff remembered something, a very old memory, of ice and snow and trolls and love.

"And that was the first time I saw you Anna. I mean, I didn't know it was you, of course. But I could see the King, and the Queen. A little girl with red hair in his arms—and you looked dead," Kristoff exhaled heavily. "Elsa was there, and Grand Pabbie made the shapes and she got scared. Then he said something 'memories'. And—wait, did you even know about this?"

"About the trolls?" Anna half-asked, half answered. "Yeah, I did. Sort of. Elsa explained what really happened a few nights ago when she made it snow in the ballroom. Did you know she hadn't done that since the night I got hurt?"

"I didn't," Kristoff admitted. "I mean, until a week ago I didn't even know _you_."

"And aren't you glad you met me?"

"Well, you dump a bag of tools on top of me, mess up my face with a bag of carrots, insist on some hare-brained scheme to stop an eternal winter by talking to your sister—great plan that was—then you destroy my sled, get me thrown out of the most awesome ice palace I have ever seen, and that's not even the best part. No, that has to be getting thrown off a cliff in the company of two crazy snow monsters."

"Hey!"

"You threw that snowball, Princess feistypants," Kristoff rose enough to look Anna in the face—and to see the rest of her as she pouted. Any further argument died on his lips as he lay down again, stealing another glance. "Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little upset by all that. But you know what? I forgive you. I mean, I really should have when you gave me the new sled, but I was talking too much and you kissed me and then I really couldn't think about stuff like that because it was really nice and I like kissing you and I hope I didn't just insult you and—ugh, I just don't know how to be proper!"

"Then don't," Anna whispered in his ear, dropping the towel.

The door opened to loud talking. Men talking loudly. "And I said to Svengar, I said—your highness?"

The first man turned bright red, immediately averting his eyes. Anna shrieked and dived for the towels. The resultant crash was loud enough to be heard throughout the mountains, she was quite sure. But at least her modesty had been preserved, if not her dignity. Or her hips. That landing had hurt. That was also when she noticed the pain in her right arm, under the bandages. Bandages that were slowly turning red.

"Doctor?" Anna asked, awkwardly raising herself to a sitting position, all thoughts of modesty or dignity gone. The men shook their heads. Kristoff knelt beside her, inspecting the bandages.

"Is it bad?"

"I don't know. Can you tell?"

"I'd have to undo the bandages. It might make things worse. Arendelle's not far. It didn't take us too long to get here this morning, and Sven wasn't in any kind of rush."

"Dress," Anna spoke with a slight slur. She rubbed the side of her head. Had she hit that too? "Green one, old one Kristoff. Already dirty. Blood is hard to wash out."

Kristoff left the room, making sure the other men kept a respectful watch on the Princess. He was back moments later with the torn and dirtied coronation dress. Wrapping a towel around Anna, he helped her to the screen, giving her privacy while she got dressed.

* * *

Meanwhile, in town, Elsa's morning had unfolded quite differently. She was currently rolling down the cobbled street, keeping to one side so a carriage could pass. She noticed an exceptionally tall man walking her way, with a scraggly mop of red hair, and a magnificent beard.

"Søren!" she called, waving the man over.

"Your majesty," he gave a curt bow as he approached. "Is there a problem?"

"I needed a drink."

"But doesn't the castle have—"

"I needed to get out of the castle. Things got a little out of control."

"You didn't…?" Søren dared to ask.

"It was close," Elsa admitted, brushing aside the fact that Søren thought _she_ went out of control. "Something happened in the southwest corridors. Kai can handle it, but I really should have checked before I left. It's done now, no turning back. Do you know where I can get a drink. And lunch?"

"I know a place," Søren answered after a brief pause. "It might be rather crude for your tastes, your majesty."

"I think I can handle a little crude humour from my subjects. And if I can't, well, they'll thaw out eventually."

"What I know about some of them, I might pay to see that show," Søren laughed. "This way, Queen Elsa. For the best terrible food and drink you've never had."

The place was a proper drinking hall. Long, low tables. Unfinished wooden beams overhead supporting the roof. Rough hewn stone for walls. Great fire pits around the centre. Small doors, and a large serving window that opened into the back room—the kitchen. Søren escorted her to a smaller table, surreptitiously kicking away a sitting bench so her chair could fit at the table. What she did notice was the decor, very 'viking raider' with crossed swords and wooden shields hanging along the walls.

A short, stout woman with blonde hair in a braid and wearing ancient looking armour approached the table. When she recognized the face of the woman in the wheelchair she dipped into a curtsey, then spoke.

"Your majesty, welcome to Hus av Strykejern. It is a great honour to have you dine here."

"Yes, umm, what do you have to drink?"

"Only the finest beers, ales, lagers and mead. We also have a little Akvavit or Brandewijn if you would prefer."

"Stout draught," Søren ordered from across the table.

"Fine Lager?" Elsa ventured.

"Stout Draught, Vienna Lager," the serving girl turned from the table, heading for the kitchen.

Elsa rested her hands on the table, her right hand clutching her left, catching snippets of conversation from around the room. She cringed a little at some of the jokes—Søren was right, it was crude. Very crude. Most of these men—and the few women—seemed to be tradesmen, workers, smiths. People who belonged to the guilds. Of course, it made sense that Søren would regularly visit the drinking hall where most of his fellow guildsmen spent their time away from work. The serving girl returned a few moments later with their drinks.

Søren took a great gulp of his drink, wiping foam from his beard with the back of his hand. Elsa took an experimental sip of hers. It was a red-gold colour. There was a bitterness to the drink that made her wince. It was slight, but it marred the odd sweetness swirling across her tongue. There was a final taste of something… smoky? no… toasted. It wasn't that bad as a drink, really. Aside from the bitterness, it was actually quite pleasant. Elsa smiled, enjoying another taste of the lager. She was still hungry.

"How do I get food?" Elsa asked Søren.

"You just call a serving girl," the guildsman explained, taking another draught and pointing at Elsa. "Frida, order here."

The same woman that served them before walked over. "What would you like, your majesty?"

"Something with fish, and… vegetables?"

"We have a salmon, cooked over an open fire, seasoned with rosemary, thyme, and oriental spices. It can be served with vegetable soup, or a selection of summer vegetables."

"Summer vegetables," Elsa made her choice.

"Would you like another drink while we prepare your meal?"

"I think I'm fine with this one," Elsa nodded at the lager in front of her. She'd barely drunk any of it. The serving girl—Frida, Elsa reminded herself—turned away and headed for the kitchens. Søren stretched, cracking his joints as he moved. Elsa asked why he wasn't ordering anything.

"Not that hungry, your majesty. I'd rather talk than eat right now."

"You would?" Elsa furrowed her brow, taking in Søren's expression of interest. "About what?"

"Anything. The people of Arendelle know very little about you Queen Elsa. You're something of a mystery. I don't plan on solving that myself, but I would like to know the fine young woman ruling my country a little better. So too, I assume, would everyone else in this town."

"That's fair," Elsa smiled. "I haven't let my people see me much. I keep to myself, running the kingdom, keeping Anna out of trouble, dealing with my injuries. Did you know this is the first time I've had a real meal outside the castle in over a decade?"

"That I didn't know. Those of us on the council noticed how much you kept to yourself. We wanted to offer help, but it was not our place to do so unless you asked first. I, for one, am glad that you did."

"So am I," Elsa sighed. "It's given me more time to myself. Honestly, that's how I spend most of my time when I'm not signing paperwork or bonding with Anna. I practice my magic sometimes too—I'm getting a lot better at controlling it."

"There is a kind of beauty in the untamed nature of your magic, Queen Elsa. I saw the courtyard the day after you—the day after the coronation ball. The shapes in the ice were savage, but there was beauty there. It is hard to describe—have you ever seen a lynx hunting in the twilight?"

"No, never."

"A shame, Queen Elsa. I saw one once as a young boy, on a hunting trip with my father. The lynx was stalking a deer just before sunset. The way it attacked was savage, ruthless. But the way it moved, the way the lynx hunted, there was a grace there I have not seen again. Words… do not do the sight justice. I wonder, Queen Elsa, what great works have you witnessed?"

"If I had seen any, I would tell you," Elsa promised. "But the only great works I saw were those that leapt off the pages of my books and into my heart. I had a… sheltered childhood."

"Call it what you will," Søren replied evenly. "But your parents' decision to hide you from the world for so long is not lost on me."

Frost coated the table around Elsa's hands, spreading slowly towards the guildsman. Her words were laced with ice. "That was _my_ choice. I will not have you slight the memory of my parents by implying what happened was their fault!"

Elsa took a calming breath, trying to ignore the people staring at her, trying to ignore the tiny icicles growing across the table. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she lowered her eyes. "It was mine."

Søren had no reply for that. He had just insulted the Queen. Called into question the judgement of her parents. Forced her to reveal a painful truth. And he had done so in the presence of dozens of witnesses. How could I be so _stupid?_ he asked of himself. He watched as the Queen rolled back from the table, wheeling herself to the door. Frida was just approaching with the salmon.

"What about your lunch?" Søren called after her, hopelessly lost.

"I'm not hungry," Elsa lied. She had to lie. She couldn't stay here. Not after losing control like that in front of so many people. The madness she had fled from this morning seemed almost comfortable, in light of this new disaster. But she couldn't go home. Not yet. She was supposed to be—Elsa stopped and mentally questioned herself. There wasn't anything she was _supposed_ to be doing. Only the paperwork left in the castle. Right now, without Anna, that didn't feel like home. Just another hall of stone.

But there was somewhere else she could go. Somewhere high in the mountains. Hidden. Beautiful. She could escape from—Elsa stopped suddenly, the side of her chair rebounding from a fountain. Snow was falling around her, piling up in drifts as an undeniable truth found her. She could never go back there. Not alone. Without her legs she could never scale that mountain again. Without help she would never see her creation again.

She looked up when she heard a commotion towards the gates of the castle. A reindeer galloped past. It was pulling a familiar blue sled. In it sat a young woman with frizzy but familiar looking red hair. But there was more red. Elsa blinked, watching the sled as it shot through the gates. The stump of Anna's right arm, which had been covered in white bandages, was now dark red.

Elsa wrenched her chair around, speeding towards the castle as fast as she could move. Blood. Anna was hurt. The only thing that mattered was Anna, getting to Anna. Seeing Anna again. A trail of frost followed the wheelchair, but Elsa never noticed. Her only thoughts were for Anna.


	16. The Big Game

Tearing through the castle, Elsa headed straight for the physician's study. If Anna was hurt, that was where she would go. Where she would tell Kristoff to take her. Pausing outside the door, Elsa heard three voices, talking conversationally. Two male, one female. She recognized all of them. Kristoff. Anna. The physician—and Elsa was ashamed to admit that all this time, she had never bothered to learn the physician's name. It was a mistake she would correct as soon as she was sure Anna was safe. She knocked on the door.

"Who knocks?"

"The Queen."

"Come in. Your sister will be fine," Elsa wheeled herself into the room as the physician spoke. "It is only some torn stitches, no major damage. It was wise to return quickly, if more had come loose you could have lost a lot of blood—a dangerous amount. Master Bjorgman, you were correct in deciding to leave the bandage in place. It is a pressure bandage, wound tightly so as to staunch the flow of blood in case something like this happened."

Elsa breathed a sigh of relief, smiling up at Anna.

"What?" the red haired princess asked. "I fell."

"I just… I saw blood—it scared me."

"It's not that bad. Really, Elsa, it isn't. I got worse scrapes crashing into things with my bike."

Elsa looked at her sister dubiously. The physician was undoing the bandage, grabbing a needle and thread.

"Okay, but, this is no big deal. I fell and—Kristoff, did you get my dress?"

It was only then Elsa noticed what her sister was wearing. The torn and damaged dress she'd worn to the coronation ball. She hadn't been wearing it in the morning, so Elsa was confused as to why Anna was wearing it now—and why she'd asked Kristoff about a dress.

"Wait, why would _Kristoff_ have your dress?"

"Because we were in a sauna and—well, I kinda might have forgotten it was a little more public than we wanted. I mean, they were supposed to be finished and—"

"Don't tell me," Elsa made a slashing motion with her right hand. " _Please_ don't tell me."

"Well, that happened," Anna stuck out her tongue, ignoring her sister's pleas. She winced as the physician carefully drove the needle through the flesh of her arm. "Then I had to dive for the towels. I mean, it was okay for Kristoff to look, but everyone?"

"Anna, I just said 'don't tell me'!"

"I just didn't want you thinking anyone hurt me Elsa. Especially not Kristoff. I fell—okay, dived—for the towels. That's how this happened. It was nobody's fault."

"Hey," Elsa changed tack, accepting Anna's explanation, remembering she'd left lunch behind in the drinking hall. "Are you hungry. Have you had lunch?"

"No. We didn't have time for lunch," Anna sounded disappointed. "Kristoff took me straight here. Wait, have you had lunch?"

The physician inspected his work, running his fingers over Anna's truncated right arm. He ignored the conversation, making sure everything was in order. It would not do to have the Princess walk out in anything less than the best condition.

"No I–I ran away."

"Were they serving lutefisk?" Anna winked. Most of Arendelle did occasionally enjoy a meal of lutefisk. The sisters were not most people.

"No, salmon. I just…" Elsa took a deep breath, composing herself, ready to admit her mistakes to Anna. "I lost control. Again. Søren, he—"

"The guy with the nice beard?" Anna interrupted, shifting slightly as the physician wrapped her stump in bandages once more.

"Yes, him. So, we were talking, and it moved to the fact I was hidden behind that door for so long. He said it was Papa's decision. I said it wasn't—and froze half the table. I said it was my fault—but that was a lie. I know Papa made that choice. I know he made it because of me. But does that make it my fault, or his?"

"Well," Anna began slowly. "I guess you can at least ask that now. That's real progress. I know a week ago you would have blamed yourself and your powers for everything. But there's a problem Elsa: I don't know whose fault that is. Or if it's anyone's fault, really. I mean, maybe it was Papa, maybe it was you, maybe it was the magic, maybe the trolls' advice was bad?"

Anna shrugged hopelessly. "I just don't know, Elsa. I just don't know."

"That's okay," Elsa smiled, wrapping an arm around her sister's waist. "I don't know either. I just–I just wanted someone else to tell me that. That it was okay to not know that."

Kristoff coughed quietly. "Did someone say something about lunch?"

"Is Anna okay now?" Elsa asked the physician.

"She will be fine, your majesty. No lasting damage. Although I would recommend pursuing less strenuous activities for the next few days," he turned to Anna. "And I would recommend you avoid falling on your arm again, unless you want to grace me with another visit."

Anna nodded with what she thought was a sagely expression. She had the grace to look chagrined when the physician admonished her about falling.

Elsa turned to the physician. "It shames me to say this, but I have known you many years, and I have not once bothered to ask your name. I always thought of you as 'the physician'."

"My name is not important, your majesty. Only my skills as a physician. Seeing as you have asked now, I cannot refuse to answer. My name is Ulrik Arnesen."

" _The_ Ulrik Arnesen?" Elsa asked, needing to be sure.

"The very same."

Elsa's jaw dropped. Everyone had heard the stories, the rumours. He had always been a great doctor, but he had reached too far once. A proponent of radical new methods, doctor Arnesen had revolutionized medicine in the small town of Arendelle. Then one of his patients had grown very ill. A mysterious sickness that he was helpless to cure. A sickness no one had seen before—and so new, rumours claimed, that it had been created by doctor Arnesen, as an unholy experiment. But his skill was great, so people managed to ignore this.

Until it happened again. The same radical treatment. The same doctor. The people saw a pattern emerging. A mob demanded the doctor's life in payment. He vanished the same night, never to be seen again.

"Your father sheltered me," Ulrik explained. "He took me in, valuing my skills. You were just a baby, not more than two years old, your majesty. Your magic had just manifested. Your father was looking for reasons why. He wanted to understand. I tried helping him, he acquired so many books—you have seen the library of course. Invaluable works. It was your father's kindness that saved me.

"It let me discover why those patients died. I learned that it _was_ my fault. The treatment, when used on people with certain histories—it was an allergic reaction to the reagents in the medicine. I left an anonymous note for the other doctors. They couldn't know I was still here. They had to know what was making people sick. Knowledge is power, Queen Elsa. To doctors and physicians, knowledge is power over death itself. If we can heal the sick, help the wounded, give them just one day more, then that is enough.

"But it is never enough. Just one day more may be my statement, but we want our patients to live fully for much, much longer than just one day more. That is why we are always searching for new knowledge. Seeking new cures. The path to knowledge is fraught with danger, and sometimes—sometimes others pay the price so that we can learn what we need to. I know that better than most. It is my greatest shame."

When Ulrik looked up, he saw the Queen smiling at him. A warm smile. A forgiving smile. "We all have things in our past we would rather forget, doctor Arnesen. We let them shape us, define us. Change us into who we are today. But I would not dare judge you on your mistakes. Just as I would not wish to be judged against mine. No, all that matters to me is that you keep Anna safe, and healthy. Keep the whole royal family healthy. That is all you need do, and you will have my gratitude."

Elsa turned to Kristoff and Anna. "Now, you were asking about lunch?"

Both smiled. Anna spoke. "Could we eat in the courtyard. Have a picnic?"

"Sure," Elsa smiled. "The cooks can eat with us too. We really should learn more about the people that live here."

"Well, you should," Anna winked at her sister. "I learned about them long ago. Like Remi's love of pasta, or Brigitta's fondness for lemon zest. Oh, oh, and the special cakes Kjellson makes for his daughters. What?"

"I get it," Elsa laughed. "I mean, my door wasn't very talkative at the best of times. Hey, Ulrik, would you like to join us for lunch?"

"My apologies, but no, Queen Elsa. I must continue my studies."

"But…"

"People still remember. I cannot show my face in public. I am as much a prisoner of circumstance as you were. I made my peace with it a long time ago. The other members of the staff were sworn to secrecy by your father. Except for Kai—his mother was one of my patients. We have since reached an… understanding."

Elsa started, raising her hand, intending to say something about not shutting doors. Then she realized the advice applied more to her than to Ulrik. With a sigh she lowered her hand, and turned to leave with the others.

* * *

In the kitchens, Elsa took great pains to try and learn the name of everyone there. Anna laughed quietly at the chaos her sister was unwittingly causing. Kristoff stood aloof, staying well away from everyone except Anna. Elsa despaired of remembering all the names and faces. It was hard enough with the council, with half the people who had walked through her office demanding an audience, demanding redress for damages inflicted. She would find a way. Elsa promised herself that. She would find a way to remember which name went with which face.

There were more pressing concerns, after learning a handful of names. Concerns such as finding sandwiches. Fruit. Something to drink. Concerns such as getting all these items safely into the courtyard. It turned out to be all too easy, resting a serving tray across her lap and gently wheeling her chair into the courtyard proper, stopping next to one of the fountains.

Anna and Kristoff made it over moments later, somewhat clumsy due to the ice underfoot. Elsa laughed making a swift gesture with her free hand, forming a pair of picnic chairs from the ice.

"Wow, this thing is freezing," Anna complained playfully. Beside her, Kristoff said nothing.

"What, you expected the ice to be warm?" Elsa smiled at her sister. "I'm afraid the only warm thing I can give you is hugs."

"Yeah, that'll make up for it," Anna replied around half a sandwich.

"Manners."

Anna swallowed, then continued talking. "Oh, come on. It's not like Kristoff didn't see us doing the same thing at dinner."

"He saw _you_ talking with your mouth full of food. I was the very picture of regal poise."

"Sneaking chocolates every ten seconds."

"I had to, you were practically inhaling them."

"You were trying to get all the good ones!"

"At least I wasn't throwing them!"

"Hey. No fair!"

"Ladies?" Kristoff asked fearfully.

"What?" the sisters rounded on him before either realized what they'd been doing.

"Wait, were we just fighting—" Elsa began.

"—over chocolate?" Anna finished for her.

Both sisters giggled, then took a moment to compose themselves. Elsa looked around the courtyard expectantly. A crazy idea had just taken up residence in her head. An idea worthy of Anna's best schemes. She smiled, surreptitiously working her magic as she drank her tea. Kristoff turned, noticing what was happening behind them. He tapped Anna on the shoulder, and the red haired princess turned around with a gasp of surprise.

"Elsa—I… wow. Really?"

"I know you liked playing as a little girl. I remember how proud you were the first time you managed to beat Papa. I thought maybe—well, I thought it might be fun to have a game. Unless you had other plans for the afternoon?"

"Well, the sauna at Oaken's was really, really nice," Anna winked at Kristoff, making Elsa blush. "But this… Elsa, I'd love to play against you. Just one thing…"

"What?"

"Kristoff gets to be my king."

"Hey, I didn't agree to this."

"Well then, I'll be queen," Elsa laughed, using her magic to change the giant ice sculpture into a throne, depositing herself on top of it.

"Get down from there," Anna imitated their mother's voice. "You'll break your leg if you fall!"

"How would I know?" Elsa shot back.

"Oops, sorry Elsa," Anna winced. "Wait, who's white, who's black?"

"You can't tell?" Elsa spread her hands wide, the pieces around her frosting over, taking on a darker hue. "Hmm… I need a king."

Something small, snowy, and all too happy walked through the courtyard.

"Olaf!"

"Hi Elsa. Hi Anna. Hi Kristoff. Hi giant ice sculptures," the snowman whispered a question with trepidation. "They're not like marshmallow are they?"

"No Olaf, they're just ice," Elsa assured him. "Can you stand there. You'll be my king."

"Oooh, a king. Do I get to make royal decrees? Everyone gets warm hugs. And free snowballs. And… and… a giant umbrella and a trip to the beach and—"

"I've created a monster," Elsa buried her head in her hands. "We're playing chess Olaf. You're the king for black."

"But, I'm white. White as snow."

"All of Anna's pieces are clear, like glass. It's not really black, Olaf. It just means we're on the other side."

"You're fighting Anna?"

"No, Olaf. It's just a game. A competition, like a race."

"Oh, I get it. I think. The first one to cross the board wins. But how do we get past all that?"

"We have to capture Anna's king—Kristoff."

"Right, right. So, what do I do?"

"Just, stay there. For now. You're my king. I can't let you get captured. Not by the evil Princess over there," Elsa winked at her sister.

"Hey, the evil Princess would like a fancy throne."

"You want to be a queen too?"

"Duh," Anna smiled at her sister. "And what does Kristoff get?"

Elsa wove her hands through the air, manipulating her magic. The ice of the white queen became a ladder, a short ladder to a grand seat, backed with a rayed sun. Elsa's throne was backed by a giant snowflake. The white king vanished, the ice flowing into much smaller shape. Two shapes. A sword, and a crown.

Picking up the items, Kristoff complained. "I still haven't agreed to this."

"Don't worry," Anna reassured him. "I'm a great chess player. Right, on with the game!"

"Pawn to E4!" Anna pointed to one of her pawns, giggling with delight when Elsa made it move.

"Pawn to E5," Elsa replied, moving her own piece.

"Bishop to B5."

"Knight to F6."

The opening moves were a blur to Kristoff, standing behind a small tower of ice—a pawn—as tall as he was. Then it happened. Anna moved her other bishop.

"Knight to E4!" Elsa called with glee, watching as the stylized frosted ice horse smashed the clear ice pawn to smithereens. She smiled at Anna's look of consternation. Anna had just realized what her sister was attempting. And she had no way to stop it. Yet.

"Queen to D2!" It was after her towering throne stopped sliding across the ice that Anna realized how well Elsa had trapped her. That knight could now take _her_. The queen, her most valuable piece. But it didn't. Elsa's next move seemed far more conservative.

"Bishop to G4."

"Pawn to H3."

"Pawn to A5."

Anna wondered what Elsa was playing at, leaving her bishop undefended like that. "Pawn to G4!"

The small tower of ice serving as a pawn sent a spike straight through the heart of the bishop, shattering it. Large chunks of ice littered the courtyard.

"Knight to A6."

"Bishop to A6," Anna was still wondering what her sister was trying to do. Losing pieces this early was not normally considered a winning strategy.

"Rook to A6."

Oh. That was it. Elsa was drawing her forward, tempting her to attack pieces out of position, inviting easy counter attacks. But why wasn't the knight in the centre moving against her or the bishop?

"Rook to H5," Anna started setting a trap of her own.

"Hey, don't I get to do anything?" Kristoff moaned, idly twirling the sword.

"Sure," Elsa replied brightly. "Knight to D2."

The charge of the frosted horse shook the pillar of ice, sending cracks spidering up the back of the throne. Anna shrieked, half out of fear, half out of sheer delight at playing something so dangerous. The knight backed off, then charged again, slamming through the white queen in a shower of crystal shards. Anna felt herself falling. The courtyard wasn't as hard as it should have been. Oh. Snow. Elsa had made her a cushion of snow to fall safely on. The frosted knight was even gracious enough to give her time to leave that square.

"Avenge me, my valiant and pungent reindeer king!" Anna shouted to her boyfriend from the edge of the board.

Kristoff leapt at the knight, his sword hacking through it in one blow. One piece fell to the left, the other fell to the right.

Anna directed the rest of the game from the sidelines, trying to control her impulsive nature. She was still losing more pieces than Elsa, but it was moving into the endgame. She had just managed to promote a pawn, jumping on the board where Elsa's white bishop had started. "Queen me!"

Anna felt the ice forming beneath her, bouying her up. The sunburst behind her had a crack through the centre. A snowball smashed against the armrest of her throne.

"Hey!"

Elsa looked away, slyly rolling up another snowball. Anna noticed the snow beside her throne. So, her sister wanted a snowball fight?

The first shot caught Elsa by surprise, Anna's aim with her left arm was surprisingly good. A snowball clipped Anna's shoulder, smashing into the back of the throne. Anna launched another volley, forcing Elsa to move her own throne.

"Hey, I can't do that!" Anna complained. Her sister had an obvious—and totally unfair—advantage.

"So?" Elsa asked deviously, throwing another snowball.

It missed. Anna's snowball caught Elsa's knee. "Doesn't count if I can't feel it!"

"Oh really?" Anna crowed, the next snowball catching her sister in the chest.

"Oh no… the evil Princess has slain me," Elsa flopped sideways in her throne, letting her tongue hang out in melodramatic fashion.

Anna noticed the rest of the chess pieces surrounding her own throne. Chess pieces that were somehow growing arms. Arms with pickaxes. Small pickaxes. Some got shields instead. They advanced on the tower of ice that was Anna's throne. She looked at Elsa. Her sister was still playing dead—but now with a silly grin. Fine. She could do this herself. Then the icy siege engines made it to her tower and started chipping away at the base. Snowballs seemed to do nothing to them.

"Kristoff, save me!" Anna continued her barrage of snowballs as she yelled for help. "Olaf, do something!"

Kristoff leapt through the first rank of animated chess pieces, swinging his icy sword in a wild arc. Two pawns were shattered. He slashed again, a rising strike from ankle to shoulder that bisected a rook with a battering ram. Another strike, horizontal, waist high through a bishop, leading to a rolling thrust into the heart of a knight. The bishop fell to pieces. The knight clutched at its chest, keeling over backwards. Olaf jumped on the back of the other bishop, his stick hands over its eyes.

"See anything?" Olaf asked the bishop.

Kristoff took the opening, diving past a pair of pawns to kick the bishop's shield aside. A two handed slash felled the piece forever. A reverse thrust dispatched a pawn trying to sneak up on Kristoff. Olaf distracted the others.

"Come on, chase the snowman. Chase the snowman!" The pawns lurched after Olaf.

Only a rook and a knight were left to batter the tower. The rook's battering ram shook the throne Anna was sitting on, a massive crack appearing beneath her. Kristoff skidded across the icy courtyard, nearly tripping on the chunks of ice from destroyed chess pieces. A massive blow ripped the rook in half, spraying shards of ice across the courtyard and into the castle walls. Kristoff used the unsteady tower of ice as a pivot and launched himself into the knight, leading with the sword. Cracks spread through the knight like spiderwebs. Chunks of ice littered the courtyard.

The sword in his hands shattered, and Kristoff watched as the pawns chasing Olaf somehow tripped, sprawling into the nearby fountain. Panting a little, the ice harvester offered his hand to Anna, helping her down from her unsteady throne of ice. She took the proffered hand, landing with a surprising amount of grace. She fixed that a moment later by tripping over a chunk of ice and faceplanting in a snowdrift.

Anna looked up to see Elsa still playing dead, flopped bonelessly over the side of her chair, grinning like—well, grinning like an idiot. It was the least self-conscious expression Anna had ever seen her sister make. That made it all the more wonderful. All the more precious. These moments. These were the moments Anna wanted more of. To see Elsa so happy, and for her to be happy too. But mostly Elsa. Because to Anna, seeing her sister's smile was a kind of drug, and she would do almost anything to see it more often.


	17. Misplaced Etiquette

Two days had passed. That much was all Elsa could be sure of. Two surprisingly uneventful days. But that also meant two days where nothing had gone wrong. No fights. No secrets. Two days of normalcy. Well, it was the closest Elsa had ever felt to normal. Anna had kept a more than respectful distance though. She helped, she would never stop helping, Elsa knew. But something was on her sister's mind. She wasn't keeping secrets—Elsa knew how bad her sister was at that—it was just something she wasn't prepared to talk about just yet.

It left Elsa wondering if it was the same thing making Anna stay a little more aloof than usual—or at all. If it was the reason neither of them had slept in the same room for the past three days. If it had anything to do with her actions during that night. Or her revelation to Anna afterwards. Elsa exhaled, trying not to dwell on such things. It was hard. She had only just reconnected with Anna, and now… now there was this unfathomable distance between them. A gulf created by a lack of understanding. Elsa dearly wished she was more of a people person, wished she could read her sister better.

She needed an outside perspective. Someone that wouldn't judge. Someone she could trust. Someone who knew how to keep secrets—and Elsa realized the only person she knew who had all of those traits was herself. The physician, Ulrik might have counted, but she barely knew him in anything more than a professional capacity. More that she knew _of_ him. Knew of his past exploits.

There had to be someone she could confide in. It couldn't be one of the castle staff either. Gerda might understand, even Kai. But Elsa did not wish to burden them with her troubles. Her physical state was enough of a burden as it was. She had a measure of independence, using her chair to move around. She could even manage certain tasks—albeit awkwardly—on her own now if she had to. She had the ability to go anywhere in the castle, and most places in town. Ramps of ice were appearing in odd places and on the sides of several major staircases in town. She usually remembered to dispel them afterwards, but not every time. There had been a few close calls, but the people of Arendelle were getting used to the idea of checking stairs first. It wasn't like the ramps were hard to see, after all.

Her mind wandering, Elsa recalled a conversation she had had in town. A rambling sort of conversation with an overly polite soldier. A Royal Marine. Lieutenant Erikson. That was his name. Could she trust him? Not with a revelation of this magnitude. Certainly not _yet_. But she could test him, see how trustworthy he was. He would make a useful confidante, if her plans worked. If he could be trusted.

"Kai, inform the staff I will be visiting the town this afternoon."

"Very well your majesty. Will Princess Anna be joining you?"

"No, she won't," Elsa sighed, a sad little sound. "Neither do I require an escort."

"Are you sure, Queen Elsa. Not everyone in Arendelle has been so understanding about your day of winter."

"Quite sure, thank you Kai. If I find who it is I am looking for, they will be escort enough."

"As you wish. I shall inform the staff presently. Shall I also inform Princess Anna?"

"No, not yet. Unless she asks after me she need not know I've left the grounds. I should be back before dinner."

"If you are not, the Palace Guard will be sent to find you."

Elsa nodded her acceptance, dismissing Kai. Shuffling her current paperwork tidily to one side, Elsa spread a map of Arendelle across her desk. It took only a few short moments to plan a route that took her past all the places lieutenant Erikson was likely to be. The docks. The marine barracks. Several taverns—unlikely if he was on duty, however. Tucking the map back into its drawer, Elsa left a note on her desk for Anna, just in case she came looking for her before speaking with Kai.

* * *

An hour later Elsa was rolling through the town, halfway to the marine barracks. Lieutenant Erikson had not been at the docks. Neither had he been on any of the navy vessels moored there. Several sailors had asked what she wanted the lieutenant for. 'Official business' had been the reply, to which the reaction was generally a knowing look and whispering to brothers in arms. A handful of the sailors she questioned had suggested she try the barracks first next time, as that was where Erikson spent most of his time.

A strong hand caught her shoulder. Elsa reacted instantly. Ice covered the cobbles for several feet, extending in rough shapes behind her. Hearing a groan of discomfort, she turned.

"Søren?"

"I don't suppose unfreezing me is out of the question?"

"Oh, sorry. Reflex," Elsa offered a chagrined little smile, working to thaw the guildsman. "I was lost in thought there, and when you touched me—"

"I should apologize then," Søren offered a quick bow. "I would also like to formally apologize for the other day. I did not wish to slight the memory of your father. I spoke without thinking of the consequences. Or considering what your opinion on the matter might be. I'd also apologize for eating your lunch, but Frida made me pay for it. Full price too."

Søren made a mockingly affronted face at his last remark. Elsa let out a little laugh at that. Søren was willing to admit he'd made a mistake, and was willing to face up to it. That gave him good marks in Elsa's books, but he had still insulted the royal family—in public. Insinuated that her father's decision had not been in the best interests of the kingdom. Implied that it was against her own wishes. Elsa knew Søren probably wouldn't understand all those implications just yet, but she was willing to give him a chance.

"I–I accept your apology, guildsman Søren," Elsa replied with as much grace as she could muster. "However, I am not ready to forgive you personally. What you implied about my father—about the king—acting against his daughter's wishes was very hurtful. I myself do not know if it was the best way to handle the… situation, but Papa did the best he could with what he knew. Don't protest—you're still welcome on the council, but I don't think I can consider you a friend. Not until—"

"I understand," Søren bowed his head, hiding his face from view behind his unruly hair. "I will attempt to earn your forgiveness, Queen Elsa. Allow me that chance at least."

"You have that chance," Elsa replied softly, placing her hand on Søren's forearm. "As _Queen_ Elsa, I consider you a loyal and valuable servant. As _Elsa_ , I wanted to consider you a friend… then you said those things about Papa."

Søren gently removed Elsa's hand from his arm. He smiled down at her, a little sad, but understanding that he had broken a trust he had not yet earned when he spoke that day. He took a look around the street, then left Elsa to whatever it was she was going to do today. He would find a way to earn her forgiveness, and watching her chair as she left, Søren had an idea how he might do that. It would be good to work as a blacksmith again—he was feeling a little restless these days, his job mostly liaising between the multifarious guilds of Arendelle.

* * *

On the grounds of the royal marine barracks, one lieutenant Henrik Erikson was practicing his musketry drill. It was required of him to be at least as fine a shot as any man under him. The regiment had made Ingvar an exception. Ingvar was an excellent shot, raised as a hunter, but recruited by the royal marines. It was more than that. Ingvar knew his weapon, he had taken the time to study the emerging science of ballistics. He had a found a way to adapt artillery tables to something usable for musketry. He made the third fusiliers the envy of many.

Ingvar's skill was the reason lieutenant Erikson had been wandering the town several days ago—the day he had first met Queen Elsa. He had simply been supposed to return with a few items from the Rabbit's Foot. That he hadn't—and the way he had told the story—had lead to much good natured ribbing from Ingvar. This time, however, lieutenant Erikson was sure he could win. Or at the very least force a tie.

Until he was forced to default, a sergeant delivering an urgent message: "The Queen wishes to see you."

Ingvar smiled at his longtime friend. He hadn't known the Queen would be in town that day, but he wanted his friend Henrik to find someone. Ingvar insisted on calling the lieutenant by his first name. Just as he insisted on being addressed by his. Now that he knew Henrik had spoken with the Queen, of course he was going to play matchmaker. It was only fair. After all, he still had trouble sleeping after that one disastrous date Henrik had sent him on. And he was never going to explain about the three spoons somehow embedded in the ceiling of the Rabbit's Foot.

"What did you do?" Ingvar finally spoke, resting his rifle carefully on its side, un-cocking it. "I mean, the Queen is actually _looking_ for you."

"Nothing improper," lieutenant Erikson informed his friend. "Which leaves me most intrigued as to why our fair Queen would seek _my_ company. This, in turn, means I must forfeit our contest—it would not be proper to keep the Queen waiting."

"You made the bet, you don't get out of it that easily, Henrik. We'll start again next time our schedules match."

"That would be at least a month, Ingvar," lieutenant Erikson was walking away, having taken the time to safely unload his rifle.

"It would be worth it, for the look on your face."

Lieutenant Erikson ignored the comments as he walked to the main entrance of the barracks. He honestly had no idea why the Queen would have singled him out, aside from the fact they had had a conversation several days ago. An idle chat. That was all. Before the summer snow he knew that the Queen—then crown Princess—had been famously reclusive. So much so that she had not been seen outside the castle in over a decade. Then it hit him. Elsa was looking for him because he was one of very few people she had spoken with since causing—and reversing—the summer snow.

Upon seeing Elsa lieutenant Erikson's train of thought came to an abrupt halt. She looked quite nervous, a little ill at ease. Several soldiers were staring at her in awe. She waved nervously to lieutenant Erikson, her hand barely moving. He strode over as quickly as possible.

"Lieutenant Erikson," Elsa spoke with a slight tremor in her voice. "Are you on duty?"

"I am not, your majesty," lieutenant Erikson replied smoothly. "I am free man for the afternoon. Within reason."

Elsa gestured towards the town. "Would you walk with me, lieutenant?"

"Certainly, your majesty. If you wish, you may simply call me Henrik—or Hank."

"Hank?" Elsa raised an eyebrow. Watching the road ahead, lieutenant Erikson missed it.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Oh, I was actually asking about the name."

"It was shorter and easier to pronounce than Henrik. My sister used it all the time."

"You have family in Arendelle?"

"Yes. My father is the only one living here now," lieutenant Erikson turned and offered Elsa an uncertain smile. "He managed to outlive everyone."

"Even your sister?"

"I am afraid so. She struck a high fever in her eighth year. I was twelve. That winter was hard on everyone."

"I–I'm so sorry."

"I made my peace a long time ago, your majesty. I will never forget her smile"—lieutenant Erikson—Hank, Elsa reminded herself—reached beneath his uniform shirt and retrieved a small gold locket—"I carry it with me everywhere."

Elsa stopped moving, gently taking the locket in her hands with utmost care. Inside was a miniature painting of a girl's face, still a little pudgy with youth. She had piercing green eyes, and soft brown hair, falling just past her shoulders. But it was the smile that really hit Elsa. The smile of a child. A smile of uninhibited happiness. An innocent smile. If the young girl had grown, Elsa was sure she would have been a great beauty. She closed the locket, a tear in her eye.

"I can see why you keep that, lieuten—Hank. Your sister must have been an amazing little girl."

"She was, your majesty. There were times, however, when she could be a right brat. I still loved her. I always will. She was my sister. The closest family I would ever have. How could I not love her?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Elsa smiled ruefully. "Because no matter what harebrained scheme Anna comes up with next, I'll still love her. She's my sister, and she was always there for me—even if I couldn't be there for her."

"I–I would like to know more, you majesty, but I fear asking for such knowledge would be prying upon private matters you wish not to discuss with commoners."

"You yourself referred to yourself as an officer and gentleman when first we met, did you not, Hank?"

"I did," He replied slowly. "I meant it. However, I do not feel I have earned enough of your trust to be able to know more about your… family history."

"Then perhaps you would like to know more about what happened on that night?"

"You would be willing to share?" Hank looked his Queen in the eye, trying to gauge her response.

"Escort me to the courtyard, and we shall see," Elsa offered coyly, gently rolling away from him.

* * *

When they arrived at the courtyard of the castle, Hank was impressed. Despite the obvious warmth of the day, it remained frozen. Elsa quickly explained that her ice did not always thaw in the same way as normal ice. She also explained that she sometimes practiced in the courtyard when no one else was around. She gestured for Hank to sit on one of the benches at the edge of the courtyard, setting her chair at the end closest to him.

"I–I don't know where to start," Elsa furrowed her brow. "How much _do_ you know?"

"I recall being told you had caused quite the scandal when you ran from the coronation ball."

Elsa knew where to start then. She told Hank of the joy she felt meeting her sister for the first time in nearly a decade. The happiness she felt being able to converse with Anna. Discovering they still shared a fondness for chocolate. She explained why she had initially refused to leave the gates open past the coronation. Anna's sudden departure, then reappearance with Hans. Her proposal. Elsa's own refusal.

She continued explaining further about the evening. Anna's preposterous wedding plans. Hans's attempts to placate both of them. The fact that Anna stole Elsa's glove. How she had reacted to having her glove stolen. Elsa told Hank of the questions her sister had fired at her. How the last question had broken through that last ounce of willpower holding everything back.

"What did she ask, your majesty?"

"She said: 'What are you so afraid of?'," Elsa sighed, wringing her hands. "That's when I decided I'd had enough of the questions. I made a move to cut her off—but I made it with my ungloved hand. A wall of spikes, of ice, separated me from the other guests. In hindsight, it's very lucky no one was hurt by that."

"Ah, but someone was hurt by that action, your majesty. Most inadvertently so."

"No… no, I checked with everyone after–after I got back. No one was hurt."

"Your majesty, I was referring to you yourself. Though the hurt was not physical in nature, it seems clear from your explanation of events preceding the argument that you had found great joy in conversing with your sister, and now you feared that lost."

"You're a very observant man, lieutenant Erikson," Elsa leaned over to place a hand on his shoulder. "Although you are most certainly mistaken this time."

"That was… not your fear at the time?"

"No, it was far worse than that. I feared the townsfolk would think of me as a monster—and I am sure a few did as I tried to escape through this very courtyard, freezing the fountains into unnatural shapes. I feared losing my kingdom to madness. I was afraid of what I was going to become. I was afraid people would be terrified of my magic and try to lock me away—or worse. But most of all, I was afraid that my magic could— _would_ —hurt someone. So I ran."

Elsa proceeded to explain her flight, freezing the fjord, sprinting through the forest, making her way up the North Mountain. Explaining the ice palace was easy. She left out Olaf for now—if the animated little snowman showed up, she would explain more—sticking to the most salient points of her self-imposed exile. Elsa told Hank of how Anna had found her, had explained the winter covering all of Arendelle. She explained how Anna had tried to convince her to return home. Then came the hard part. The part she still could not forgive herself for.

"I lost it. I lost control. Anna was so sure her plan would work. I knew it wouldn't. Everything she was saying, it just made things worse. I panicked. The cursed ice struck her heart. You called it a 'family dispute'. It was far worse than that. I killed _my own sister_. I froze her heart. I didn't think there was any coming back from that point."

"Princess Anna seemed quite alive when last you spoke. Complaining about her lack of ability to 'calm down', if memory serves."

Elsa nodded in agreement, tentatively placing her hand over lieutenant Erikson's. He spared a glance towards the leg where his hand was resting, but said nothing. If the Queen deigned to touch him, that was her prerogative. He would not—could not—reciprocate without permission. There were things that were just not done around royalty. Lieutenant Henrik Erikson did not know, however, how little the sisters of Arendelle actually cared for such rules.

"I got my happy ending," Elsa said softly. "Anna gave it to me. Hans would have cut me down where I was. Anna froze, taking the blade intended for me. That's how she lost her arm. Something slashed across my back at the same time. A fragment of the blade, perhaps. That is what cost me the use of my legs—and many other things besides. Well, perhaps that is not a happy ending. The cost was high, and while I did indeed get my sister back, I feel like she lost something in the process—something more than just her arm."

"Please forgive my presumption on this matter, your highness, but what if whatever it was that Princess Anna lost was something negative—something she needed to lose?"

"Such as?"

"Some kind of burden, an emotional weight, a dark secret. I know not what, I was merely asking of the possibility, for the Princess does not appear to be in any way diminished or unhappy."

"You've never seen An—"

"Hi Elsa. So… this is lieutenant Erikson," Anna smiled at her sister, strolling past casually, noting how Elsa's hand lay on top of the lieutenant's. She added in a stage whisper. "You were right. He _is_ easy on the eyes."

Anna laughed as Elsa blushed furiously. How dare she… then Elsa heard a good natured chuckle from beside her. Both of them?

"Is the Queen of Arendelle truly so shallow?"

It took Elsa a moment to process the gleam in Hank's eye. The subtle grin pulling at the corner of his lips. "Did you just—was that—are you really—a joke?"

Anna tried to hide her laughter behind her hand, failing utterly. It was fun to see Elsa this flustered. Maybe she would have to learn more about this lieutenant Erikson herself. She watched as a grin cracked across the lieutenant's face.

"It would be scandalous," Elsa recovered her composure, covering her mouth with her free hand to give her a moment to think of a suitable retort. "Most scandalous indeed if it were known the Queen of Arendelle first chose her friends based on their appearance alone. Yet, she will not deny having done so. For the man known as Lieutenant Henrik Erikson is of very fine appearance indeed in the Queen's own opinion, though she thinks he still lacks certain graces."

Anna almost tumbled into one of the fountains when saw the look on the lieutenant's face. Half affronted outrage, half subtle laughter. Anna turned her tumble into a less than graceful act of sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Noting that I lack certain graces," Hank shot Elsa a look that sent a strange chill down her spine and raised goosebumps on her arms. "Would the Queen presume to instruct this poor soul on how to obtain such graces?"

"Certainly," Elsa replied coolly. "For she knows her sister could not be entrusted with a task requiring such tact and determination."

Elsa heard a loud splash from across the courtyard. She looked up in time to see Anna fishing herself out of the fountain she had been sitting against. Elsa smiled knowingly at her sister. Anna frowned at her. It still looked adorable.


	18. Undisclosed Desires

Lieutenant Erikson had left not long after the incident where Anna fell in the fountain. The redheaded princess inquired as to why he could not stay for dinner. His reply was to politely remind her that as a royal marine of Arendelle he had duties that needed attending to. That he had left more than enough time to reach the barracks was left unsaid. He also left unsaid that 'more than enough time' gave him another hour to contemplate recent events.

Princess Anna had seemed every bit as exuberant as Queen Elsa had explained. Energetic and unrestrained, completely in contrast to her more poised and refined sister. She had not even commented on falling in the fountain—although Hank suspected that had more to do with not wanting to acknowledge she had a certain clumsiness to her demeanor. Elsa's laughter at the incident had been subtle, but oddly sincere. Not the mocking laugh of someone taking pleasure in another's misfortune, but the laugh of someone who understood that it was possible for anyone to make such a mistake.

Lying on his bunk, fiddling with the buttons of his uniform shirt, Hank wondered further about the Queen. What she had told him—about her flight, her powers, the fact she had made an entire palace—it was a lot to take in. In the moment it had felt as though Queen Elsa was unburdening herself, telling him all these things. Perhaps she was, he considered. But why me?

Then he recalled other actions Elsa had taken in their conversation. When she had told him he was wrong about her fears, Elsa had placed a hand upon his shoulders. A gesture that would be shared by friends or family. A sort of apologetic touch. Then… just before explaining how Anna had made her happy—had saved the both of them—Elsa had placed her hand atop his. It was quite deliberately done, and as he thought back now, a gesture that held a promise of far more than mere friendship.

But how could he? He was just a commoner, though an officer of the royal marines. She was the Queen. There were rules that had to be followed. Protocol that had to be observed. Deep down, however, Hank harboured desires of his own. Desires he knew he could never act upon. Because the one he desired was a royal, and he was just a lowly soldier.

* * *

In the castle, Elsa was having similar thoughts. Most of them revolved around creating new insults for her own stupidity. How could I not have seen it? Lieutenant Eriks—Hank is so proper, so upright. Of course he couldn't return my touch. She hoped he had at least _wanted_ to return the touch. She needed a sign that this wasn't going to be a massive waste of time and… she sighed heavily, remembering the _look_ he had given her, after her response to his joke about graces. Just imagining the gleam in his eyes, his gentle smile, the way he leaned in slightly. All of it gave Elsa a decidedly thrilling chill.

It was something she'd never felt before. Even when… or maybe she had, but just didn't want to admit it. Her feet had frozen that time, hadn't they? Elsa looked hurriedly around her study. Snow seemed to be drifting lazily through the air. Something about it seemed different. Elsa held out her hand, used her powers to snare a single flake to inspect. It was a perfect fractal snowflake. She stole another from the air. Also perfect, but different, as all snowflakes were.

What makes it so different? Elsa thought, puzzled. Something about the snow had caught her eye. Something about the flakes. Right now, after inspecting a few more snowflakes, she couldn't say what it was that so intrigued her. She wheeled her chair back from the desk. Perhaps moving about the room would give her greater perspective. Perspective. That was it. She gently plucked another snowflake from the air. It was too large. Almost double the normal size of her snowflakes.

Elsa rolled towards a small drift building up in the corner of her study. She carefully took a handful of snow. It felt feathery, soft, almost weightless. Still cold, but perhaps not as cold as what she normally made. Paperwork could wait. For a little while. She was going to explore this odd change in her powers. The exploration would have gone much better if Olaf hadn't strolled past a minute later.

"Hi Elsa. Hey look, a big flurry. Is this for me?"

"No, it was—I was thinking about som—my control still isn't as good as it should be."

"Oh," Olaf's face fell when heard the flurries weren't for him, "I'm sure you'll get. You're like the smartest, bravest, warmest, nicest person there is."

"I think you're talking about Anna."

"No. I mean _you,_ Elsa. Hey, wanna build a snowman?"

"Do I—what?"

"A snowman."

"Olaf, _you're_ a snowman."

"Oh, I know. I just thought it might be nice to have some friends around. Just to visit, I mean. Can you imagine what they'd do to the guest rooms—ick."

"Are you–are you lonely, Olaf?" Elsa asked her most unexpected creation. "D–Do you want me to make more snowmen like you?"

"Oh, heavens no. One of _me_ is enough. But maybe someone to talk to, that doesn't always talk back. Kinda like Sven. Or that pretty girl with the bun in her hair. Or the statues out the back."

"It sounds like you have plenty of friends here Olaf," Elsa was even more confused by this than when she was sorting through her feelings for Hank.

"Oh sure, but they're like rock stars, or reindeer. Or running away a lot."

"Anna doesn't run away. I don't run away. Krisotff doesn't run away—well, when he's here."

"But Anna's not always here. You're busy lots. Kristoff—talks to Sven."

On a whim Elsa conjured a snowman from the air next to Olaf. Three large balls of snow. Rummaging through her desk Elsa found something for eyes and buttons. Even a nose. Royal seals—wax copies of the seals for buttons. A pair of pen nibs for eyes. An empty ink pot for a nose. The grin on Olaf's face just grew and grew as Elsa added the final touch to her latest creation. She topped it off with a hat Papa had worn once, long ago.

"He looks so sophisticated," Olaf bowed to the other snowman. It still lacked arms. Olaf frowned. "Here buddy, take my arm."

Elsa laughed at the literalness of Olaf's words, the little snowman detaching an arm then attaching it to the other snowman. Olaf happily dragged the inanimate pile of snow from the study, regaling it with tales about jumping off cliffs and fighting snow monsters. It was so absurd Elsa couldn't help but smile. This was her doing. Another thought sobered her. So was Marshmallow. She wondered idly how the real monster she had made was doing. If he had survived the siege of her icy palace. Given the men from Wesealtown had managed to get inside, probably not.

But she still wanted to see her creation again—the ice palace, not Marshmallow. She would need help to get there this time. Maybe it was time she admitted to her sister that sometimes she really did need to be alone. But not _too_ alone. And maybe Kristoff might like to see the palace again. A trip into the mountains, awkward as it might be for her with so many people. If they got too annoying she could simply throw them from the balcony, right?

Elsa gasped in shock. Where the hell had that thought come from? Was it a joke? Somehow, she doubted it. But why; why had she even thought that, even in jest. She honestly had no idea. It had just come to her from nowhere. Elsa took a deep breath, trying to remember exactly how her palace had been laid out. Remembered nearly driving the Weaseltown soldier over the edge of the balcony. He would have fallen on twenty feet of powder. Hardly fatal.

But what she had nearly done to the other man—that would have been unforgivable. For an instant Elsa was grateful to Hans for stopping her. Just for an instant. Even so, it was his words that had stopped her. Had prevented her from becoming a monster. For all his faults, the traitor prince of the Southern Isles had still managed to do something good. It was as nothing compared to the pain he had caused, but it forced Elsa to revise her opinion of the man. Slightly.

With a little extra effort Elsa managed to dispel the snow in her office, then set about finding Anna. There were two things to discuss. First, returning to the ice palace. Second, and harder to ask, would Anna help with bath time tonight?

* * *

"I don't get it Joan," Anna was talking to the portraits again. "I mean, I get it that some people—I mean some girls—like girls. But I don't get it. How does it work? Do I even want to—nevermind. And why _Elsa_ , of all people. Did I really mean what I said about—when I suggested that? Ugh."

Joan didn't reply. Being a painting limited her options in conversation. She was an excellent listener however. Anna liked that about Joan.

"See, I like Kristoff. Like _really_ like him. Okay, I love him. He's cute, kinda scruffy. He doesn't mind that I'm messy and uncoordinated and have about as much grace as a turnip. I think he likes that actually. He likes Elsa's ice stuff of course—I mean come on, he's an _ice harvester_. I think something might be wrong with him if he didn't like her stuff. Anyway, yeah, I like him quite a lot, and he likes me that way too. And I dunno Joan, am I ready to go further?"

A quiet voice came from the door. "Is _he?_ "

Anna let out a horrified shriek before she saw Elsa's wheelchair sitting there. "You know it's not nice to sneak up on people like that. I could have been doing anything!"

"Like talking to paintings?"

"Better than talking to a door—I mean, I used to do it when you stopped talking to me. I came here when I got mad at your door. Or sad, or just… it doesn't really matter. I just liked talking to the portraits because I could see who I was talking to. No one else would stay still long enough. Okay, okay, Gerda definitely tried, but she acted kinda like a grandmother. I mean, if we'd seen our grandparents. You ever wonder about that Elsa?"

"I—Oh, I hadn't considered it too much. I've traced them out on the family tree of course—trying to find out if anyone else had powers like mine—but not really thinking about them as people. Papa and Mom were supposed to be enough, weren't they?"

"I just wish… well, it would have been _nice_ to have more family. To visit them sometimes instead of being shut in the castle. Or have them visit us. I'm sure they could have helped you with your powers. I know it."

"Maybe," Elsa replied cautiously. "You remember I told you about the great storm, when you were four?"

Anna nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs around the room.

"There was another reason you were too scared to leave my bed. You probably don't remember it too well. Honestly, my memory is a little hazy too. During that storm grandpa got sick. Papa's father. It wasn't just the normal kind of sick either. I remember he was coughing blood, and calling for someone—Elise, I think. Papa explained later that Elise was grandpa's wife, but she had died shortly after Papa was born. When the storm had finally passed… so had grandpa."

Anna sniffed a little. "I never knew. But what about Mom's parents?"

"I don't know Anna. The family tree gets a little confusing there. The Queen of Corona is shown as Mom's sister, but there's nothing above either of them. I asked Kai about it once, but he didn't know, so I had to look this up in the library. It means Mom and her sister were commoners. They had no royal lineage to trace, so they became the first of their names writ upon the family tree. We could try and find Mom's parents—we really could—but we'd have to search all of Arendelle, and ask for help to search all of Corona."

"So maybe we could visit them," Anna was undeterred. "One day. If—when—we find them."

"You always want to be around so many people," Elsa sighed, resting her chin against her hands.

"And you don't. I know it's hard for you Elsa. I really appreciate the fact you're trying to get to know Kristoff better—hey, if I married him would that make him first of his name on the family tree?"

"It would," Elsa nodded. "Anna, there's something I'd like your help doing."

"You're not still embarrassed asking about that are you?"

"Ah–a little. But it's not about that," Elsa directed the conversation back to what she really wanted. "Do you remember the ice palace?"

"How could I forget?"

"Sometimes… sometimes I really want to go back there. To be alone. Just for a little while. I'd come back, really. It's just…"

"You'd miss me too much?" Anna placed her hand over her heart and smiled. "You do care."

"Yes, well, sort of. I mean, I'd like to ask you to help me visit the ice palace. If that's okay with you."

"Oh," Anna didn't really have an answer. She wanted to help Elsa in any way she could—but would doing this lead her back into old habits?

"It's okay if you want to say 'no', Anna. I'd just like to go back there one day. Okay, maybe for a few days. Just to visit. Like a holiday."

"I–I'll help you get there," Anna promised. "But you have to promise me you won't go mad with power or something and try to stay there forever, sending an army of Marshmallows to attack the town."

"Wait, why would I do that?"

"You went mad with power, why not?"

"Fine," Elsa smirked. "They eat you first."

"Hey, that was uncalled for."

"You started it. You said I'd go mad with power. Why not abuse the privilege?"

Anna replied with a most unladylike snort. How dare Elsa do that. How dare she do it _right?_ Anna smiled a little as she realized what had just happened. She had just implied Elsa was going to go mad and stay in the ice palace forever. Elsa's first response had not been denial or attempting to change the subject. It had been to tell a joke.

"Why are you smiling?" Elsa sounded slightly concerned.

"Oh, it's just, I kinda implied you'd make an army of monsters—"

"You outright stated that part, actually."

"Anyway, I said that stuff, and you didn't go all panicky or try to change the subject."

"So?"

"You _told a joke_."

"I don't get why that's such a big deal. I can tell jokes all the time."

"Bad ones. But the point is, you didn't try to shut me out, or deny what was happening. You understood enough to make it funny."

"You," Elsa pointed at her sister. "Are surprisingly perceptive."

"I've been told, when people aren't interrogating me about the company I keep on the walls here. Or with certain doors. Or… was there something else you were going to ask about?"

"Well," Elsa started wringing her hands nervously. "I do need a bath tonight. And I was wondering—"

"I'll help," Anna's reply was so direct and simple it shocked Elsa. "We can't pretend that never happened, but I can say I know you a little better now. In a good way. Plus, you can tell me _all about_ what mister prim and proper was telling you in the courtyard."

"His name is Hank—or lieutenant Erikson to you," Elsa pointed at her sister with the last part of that statement. "And I was mostly talking to him, not the other way around."

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident, although Anna did seem quite restless through dinner. After dessert, Elsa saw Kai placing a few items on the desk in her study. Wax seals, an ink bottle, something that flashed silver under the moonlight from the window.

"Thank you Kai," Elsa spoke softly.

"It is my duty, your majesty. Although I will admit that pet snowman of yours can make quite a mess."

Elsa sighed, shaking her head. "Just tell me, what did he do this time?"

"Freyr's shrine, behind the castle. I honestly have no idea how he manages to get up there, but I can always tell he's been there. Snow everywhere. Usually a trail of destruction around the walls too. Broken sticks, trodden grasses, disturbed stones. The groundskeepers make quite an effort to ensure the back of the castle is more than presentable."

"I may have to have a talk with Olaf then."

"Perhaps, your majesty. The other staff often complain that he acts like a child. I will not pretend to know how he—is it really a he?—came to be. But I hope it is not improper to ask if he actually _is_ a child?"

"I don't know Kai," Elsa gave her advisor and most trusted servant an uncertain smile. "He might be, he might not. When I created him—I don't actually know _how_ I created him. Anyway, I was thinking of Anna, just before the accident. So he might be like me. When I was eight."

Kai said nothing, merely nodded.

"Or he might be like Anna."

Kai visibly paled at the thought. He still said nothing, just silently excused himself, leaving Elsa to continue her sojourn through the castle. She was heading to the big bathroom. One not often used due to the elegance of the fittings and its proximity to her parents' old room. She knew she had every right to use it, as did Anna. It just seemed a little odd, but Anna had insisted. And when Anna insisted these days, Elsa found it hard to refuse.

* * *

Outside the bathroom, Elsa could hear water running, and what sounded like a lot of splashing. She knocked on the door. Anna invited her in. Elsa slowly cracked the door open, not quite sure what to expect. Well, the water on the floor made sense, considering all the splashing. The fact Anna was actually in the bath made sense too.

What did not make sense, however, was the mass of fizzing bubbles above the surface of the water.

"Anna," Elsa cocked her head slightly, giving her sister a quizzical look. "What have you done to the bath?"

"Oh, this?" Anna splashed a little, generating more bubbles. "Kjellson called it a bubble bath. You just mix a few bath salts together—and a couple of other things—and hey presto, tons of bubbles. It's awesome. I mean, it is, right—you're not like morbidly afraid of bubbles or anything are you?"

Elsa laughed softly. "Of course not. But I am going to need help getting in there."

"I'll give you a hand," Anna laughed at her private joke as Elsa was undressing. " _A_ hand, Elsa."

"Oh, very funny Princess sinister," Elsa shared her own little joke as she struggled with the last piece of clothing she was wearing. "Well, are you going to help me?"

Anna rose from the bath, splashing her way to the edge. It was then that Elsa noticed the bubbles clinging to her sister, forming a sort of veil. Just enough to protect her modesty. Well, almost. She looked away a little too quickly. Anna caught her out.

"It's okay to look Elsa. I mean, okay, it does make me a little uncomfortable that you're kinda looking at me the same way I want Kristoff to, but looking isn't going to hurt me."

Anna brushed some of the bubbles away before leaning over to lift Elsa from her chair. It was awkward, it always was with only one arm. Elsa crossed her arms behind Anna's neck, hanging on as if she were afraid to ever let go. Anna enjoyed the closeness, even if she did feel a little awkward knowing what she did now about her sister's desires. Anna gently placed Elsa in the bath, then slipped back beneath the bubbles.

"I mean, I know what it's like to want something like that, and to not be able to do anything about it—argh. The sauna was nice. Kristoff was nice—very nice. What about your guy, Hank? Does he look nice? Can you tell?"

Elsa took the soap, lathering it up her arms. "Of course he looks nice. He's in uniform, he's clean, well mannered—"

"No, I mean… umm, without a shirt. You can imagine, right?"

"I think so. I mean, his chest would be rather flatter—and a whole lot wider—than yours for starters," Elsa was none-too-subtly soaping up her own chest at this point. "I guess he'd have to be pretty muscular, being in the military. I'm not actually sure if I like that. Maybe not huge muscles, but muscles like he actually uses them."

"Like Kristoff!" Anna's excited movement sent waves rippling across the bath.

"But Kristoff _is_ huge, Anna," Elsa eyed her sister warily. "I mean it's good. Some people like that"—Anna stuck out her tongue—"He's nice too, which is a bonus. But I've seen smaller _trees._ "

"So he's a bit more manly around the middle than your guy, so what?" Anna wasn't sure if she should be defensive or jealous. Or just plain confused. It wasn't the muscles that had attracted her to Kristoff in the first place—they were just a nice bonus.

"I think I like that about Hank," Elsa replied evenly. "He's tall, but not really imposing. Okay, I don't think people would mess with him, but I think that's the way he walks. With purpose and determination. Sure of his goal."

"Ah, our Queen likes her men with confidence," Anna winked at her sister, stealing the soap from her hands. "And she likes her women with a bit of fire."

"I guess I do," Elsa sighed wistfully. "You just seem to make everything fun, Anna. You make life worthwhile. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Anna blushed, but accepted the compliments none-the-less.

"Okay, sometimes you can be a little chaotic, and clumsy, and accident prone, but you can laugh it off. You're amazing like that. And you've definitely got more grace than a turnip."

"You did not." Anna went a brighter shade of red.

"Oh, I heard _everything_ ," Elsa winked, blushing a little herself as she stole the soap back from Anna's unprotesting fingers. Fingers and something else. Soft and yielding. Anna let out a surprised gasp.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Anna admonished her sister.

"I can't see anything through the bubbles!" Elsa protested, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry, I'm—"

"Stop it," Anna warned her sister. "You don't have to keep apologizing. It's just—I kinda understand _why_ , but—the soap?"

"Well, I need to wash my legs too," Elsa was still blushing. "I just—okay, maybe I went too far. It was an accident."

"Sure," Anna poked her tongue at her sister. Then a thought occurred to her. She couldn't keep it in. "Hey, your legs—well, between them, can you still—umm, 'feel' anything?"

Elsa just tilted her head, a look of utter confusion on her face.

"Your—y'know, lady parts—can you? I mean, if you ever got with someone, could you still? I'm rambling, and it's too personal I know but I was really curious and I don't really know what else to talk about and is that why you can't have family and… and…" as Anna spoke her cheeks burned, her blush becoming almost incandescent. Elsa had dropped the soap with a loud splash at the mention of 'lady parts'. She now sat next to her sister, completely frozen. It was as if a switch in her head had been flicked to the 'off' position.

Anna waved her hand in front of her sister's eyes. Elsa didn't even blink. "Great. I just broke the Queen."


	19. Gone

Elsa lay on her bed, thinking. Anna lay next to her, silent for once. Both were in nightgowns, their bath finished some time ago. Elsa did not have an answer to Anna's question. Still had no answer. She was unsure whether she actually wanted to find an answer. Eventually, perhaps, but not right now. Anna had been uncharacteristically silent after asking that question. Elsa could tell her sister knew she had crossed an unspoken boundary—without thinking, but probably without meaning to either. Anna was just like that. She spoke her mind, held nothing back.

"I'm sorry," Anna whispered to the night. "It was _too_ personal I know and I'm not supposed to talk about things like that but you're my sister and I'm sorry but I care about you—all of you—and that means things I probably shouldn't talk about with anyone ever and I—"

"Anna," Elsa placed a hand on her sister's shoulder, turning to look her in the eye. "I know why you asked, I do. It's–It's hard for me. To talk about these things. I never—well, I honestly never thought about things like this before. I don't want to talk about it now—but I will talk about it later. I promise. I'm not ready yet. That's all."

Anna breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you. Really, I mean thank you. You're not shutting me out. You just told me why you can't talk about something. Hey, you wanna gossip about men instead?"

"Wait, what?"

"Well, you've met lots of guys now. Søren, doctor Ulrik, lieutenant Erikson—or 'Hank', to you—I'm sure there are others you're not telling me about," Anna winked mischievously at her sister.

"Oh, you're sure are you?" Elsa's eyebrows rose. "Because if I'd met anyone else that would be news to me too."

"Oh, come on, play along," Anna pouted.

"Fine, but you only know two guys: Hans, and Kristoff—and dear lord I know more men than my _sister!_ "

Anna giggled at Elsa's horrified expression at this revelation. "You can tell me all about them. Which guy are you gonna pick? Why? Are you leaving any for other people?"

"I already have," Elsa waved a warning finger at her sister. "I don't know. I don't know that one either. And finally, you have Kristoff, why do you want to know?"

"Because… umm…" Anna's eyes were darting from side to side. "Options?"

Elsa smiled ruefully, falling silent. She turned to look at the stars outside the window. Realized she wouldn't be able to see them with the lights still on.

"Anna, could you turn out the lamps please?"

"Tired?"

"I want to look at the stars."

"Oh, okay," Anna rose from the bed, turning out each of the gaslamps around the room. Soon the only light came from the window, and she flopped back down on the bed next to Elsa.

Elsa's mind wandered as she watched the stars. The stars never changed. Okay, her books on astronomy said they moved around incredibly slowly, but they never changed places. It was something she had always taken comfort in. The night sky was beautiful, magical, and mysterious. It was full of dark promises, as she had so often believed she herself was. The blackened sky was harsh and cold, just like her magic. The stars shone bright, just like her eyes—Papa always said they had a special little gleam. Elsa tried to remember what else the night held for her—then she recalled all the lonely nights spent in her room, wishing she had no magic. Wishing she was normal. Wishing she could hug someone. Touch someone.

Someone lying right next to her. Someone whose presence she had come to appreciate only recently. Someone who helped her see the best in herself, even when she didn't want to hear about it. Someone who could forgive her for her most heinous actions. Someone who loved her so deeply it hurt. If every star was a tear, I still would not have cried enough. Elsa sighed, bringing her hands up to hug her arms. She could feel herself slipping, falling back into old, painful memories. It had happened without her even thinking about it.

Elsa felt an arm drape around her shoulders as something soft pressed against her back. She turned slightly as Anna rested her head against her bare shoulder. Elsa took Anna's hand in her own and squeezed it tight. It was all she could do in that moment. She felt her sister's lips tenderly brush her cheek. She felt Anna squeeze her hand, trying to reassure her without words.

Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Anna just lay there—was _there_ —for her sister. Anna gave Elsa support as she struggled with her demons. Sometimes she would be fine. Sometimes she wouldn't. Anna could not tell in advance how her sister was going to react certain things. How could she have known that seeing the stars through the window would have made Elsa so sad? So she just lay there, holding her sister close until she felt better. But she could not stay silent forever—or more than five minutes, as Elsa often said. So she sang a quiet lullaby.

A lullaby their mother had shared with them long ago.

Your baby blues  
So full of wonder  
Your curlicues  
Your contagious smile  
And as I watch  
You start to grow up  
All I can do is hold you tight

Anna held Elsa even closer, brushing her cheek against her sister's, remembering how their mother had hugged her when singing the end of the verse. Elsa shuffled back, nestling up against Anna, unshed tears making her eyes shimmer. Anna continued to sing, her voice soft and melodious.

Knowing…  
Clouds will rage and  
Storms will race in  
But you will be safe in my arms  
Rains will pour down  
Waves will crash around  
But you will be safe in my arms

Elsa turned her head just enough to face her sister, tear tracks barely visible in the moonlight. "That was Mom's lullaby. That was… sometimes I wish…" Elsa sighed heavily, not bothering to wipe away her tears. "I really like it when you sing."

"I added another verse," Anna whispered back, then began to sing again. "I was thinking of calling it 'Elsa's Refrain'."

Story books  
Are full of fairy tales  
Of Kings and Queens  
And bluest skies  
My heart is torn  
Just in knowing

Your castle, it may crumble  
Your dreams may not come true  
But you are never all alone  
Because I will always  
Always love you

When the…  
Winds will howl and  
Storms will rage  
You will be safe in my arms  
Snow will fall down  
Ice will crash around  
But you will be safe in my arms

In my arms

"I–I don't understand," Elsa sniffed quietly. "After everything…"

Anna kissed her sister on the cheek, brushing away her tears as she did so. "No matter what, Elsa, I'll always love you. I always have, and I always will. Nothing is going to change that. And if you don't believe me, well"—Anna kissed her sister's cheek softly one more time, then flopped back against the covers—"you're a dummy."

A comforting darkness enveloped the room, and Anna began to doze, her arm wrapping around Elsa for warmth and comfort. Elsa smiled, rubbing her arms, and closed her eyes. It had been a long day.

* * *

Elsa looked all around. She was on the North Mountain somewhere. Her palace was gone. The sun was setting, the pines casting long shadows. Shadows that flowed like ink spilt on a page. Something was wrong. The shadows were tinged with red. But she already knew they were dangerous. No, it was something else. Her legs. She could move her legs. She was standing upright. Elsa knew, instinctively, that something else was amiss. Missing.

Anna was missing. The shadows were closing in. Elsa heard a scream. More shadows swirling in the distance, tinted red by the dying sunlight. Elsa threw her hands out wide, driving the shadows around her back with giant walls of ice. The shadows sprang from the ground, slamming into the ice like battering rams. Cracks and splinters spread across the glassy surface. Another scream in the distance spurred Elsa onward.

A sound like a gunshot breaking glass echoed behind Elsa, but she didn't care. She had to reach Anna. She had to get the shadows away from her sister. Elsa ran, throwing her magic wildly at the shadows that leapt at her or tried to trip her. Spikes of ice littered the mountainside behind her. The shadows hounded her every step, while Anna's screams urged her to move faster and faster.

It seemed as if she would never reach her sister. Anna's screams became more anguished, and Elsa had to risk throwing magic ahead of herself to stop the shadows closing in and preventing her from reaching Anna at all. She ran faster and faster, a great trail of snow kicked up in her wake. The shadows were faster. She felt something slash her cheek. Elsa retaliated instinctively, spearing the shadow through its heart. A line of fire traced across her arm. Another shadow frozen solid.

Elsa ran and ran, her sister eternally out of reach. Something slammed into her back and Elsa stumbled, falling to the ground, kicking up a plume of powdery snow. She rose. Tried to rise. Realized her legs wouldn't work. She remembered something like a dream—this had happened before, or was it after? She had dealt with problem in stages. But getting to Anna was a more pressing problem. A toboggan would work perfectly.

The small icy sled shot down the mountain at breakneck speed, the sole passenger flinging spikes of ice in all directions to drive back the shadows growing ever closer. Anna screamed again. She was close. Very close. Elsa threw out a wave of ice, smashing aside the shadows in her path. Frost coalesced in Elsa's palm as she saw the shadowy giant. A giant icicle, meant to pierce the monster's heart.

Elsa drew her right arm back, holding her left arm out towards the shadowy giant. She threw the icicle like a javelin, watched it as it flew. The giant howled in pain—screamed as it fell backwards. The shadow shrank as it fell, blood pooling beneath it, staining the snow. Elsa recognized the dress. The hair. The face. She sped over, hoping she wouldn't have to see what she knew was on the twilit snow.

Anna lay in a pool of blood, gasping for breath. Elsa crawled agonizingly slowly to her sister's side. Tried to take Anna's hand. Her sister's arm faded to shadow, to a snowy mist. Elsa watched in horror as Anna began to dissolve, vanishing from existence. She could only remember her sister having a single arm. Something wasn't right. Elsa knew it wasn't right. The beautiful young woman in front of her was fading away, vanishing into the night. She had to do something. She couldn't remember who the young woman was, only that she was important—very important—to her.

"What's your name?" it seemed absurd to ask such a question, but Elsa had to know the young redhead's name. It was as if her entire existence hinged upon that fact.

"I'll never…" the redhead fought to make herself heard. "Never forgive…"

"No. No no no no no," Elsa held the young woman's remaining hand tight. She wished with all her heart she knew who the young woman in front of her was. She wished she knew why she was bleeding into the snow, slowly fading into the night. Something ached deep in Elsa's heart. A memory buried far too long. A young girl, with red hair in pigtails, flying through the air. The name still escaped her. The purpose of the memory.

Elsa wept, not knowing why this stranger affected her so. What had she done? What had they done? The woman became a ghost on the wind, her voice echoing across time.

"I'll never forgive you."

Something deep inside Elsa broke. She felt it like a physical pain. Something shattering into a million little pieces, never to be whole again. Elsa lay shivering on the mountainside. She never felt cold. Something was wrong. It felt like a piece of her soul had been torn asunder. She lay on the mountainside, tears falling like the snow—or the snow falling like her tears. She didn't care anymore. Let the snow bury her for eternity. She had done something horrible. It was only what she deserved.

* * *

Someone grabbed her shoulders, shaking her roughly. Elsa blinked. The redhead from her dream was straddling her, still shaking her. Elsa blinked again. The young woman had vanished. She'd just watched her fade to nothingness. Elsa rubbed her cheek. But she could definitely slap pretty hard for a ghost.

"Wake up!" another slap.

Elsa rubbed her cheek again, taking in everything around her. Ice coated every surface in her room. Snow fell from the ceiling and covered most of the bed. Spikes of ice jutted out around the bed. Anna was still on top of her. Elsa caught her sister's hand before she could be slapped again.

"What did I do?" Elsa asked timidly, afraid of the answer.

"You were whimpering and moaning, and all of a sudden ice was just everywhere. Then the snow fell, and then you attacked the walls with ice spikes, then you were screaming and crying so I had to wake you up and do you—was it the same nightmare?"

"It _was_ a nightmare," Elsa looked up at her sister. "I was fighting the shadows and they chased me and they kidnapped you I think, then I killed the big shadow but it was _you!_ "

Elsa looked helplessly at her sister. Anna hugged her tight.

"And then–then you were dying, but it was wrong because you were fading. I forgot you. I forgot your name. Your face. Everything. The only thing left was your voice. And–and something broke inside me. Really broke. It felt like my soul had been ripped in half so I just lay there on the mountain so the snow could bury me forever so no one would have to be hurt by me ever again and—"

"It's okay Elsa. It was just a dream. Everything's okay now. You're safe. I'm safe," Anna shivered as she spoke. "We're in your room and it's actually kinda cold in here so if you could thaw this out it'd be nice."

Elsa gave a sad little laugh. It took her a long time to thaw everything out. Far longer than usual. Anna said nothing, but Elsa knew she noticed. Anna snuggled into Elsa's back again, breathing softly.

"And next time you want to bury yourself forever," Anna whispered, mildly annoyed. "Leave me out of it. That was cold."

But she still didn't let go of Elsa.


	20. The Council

Søren Skjeggestad was working late into the night. It was not an uncommon occurrence, especially with the guilds still refusing to cooperate fully. But that was not the reason he was working late on this particular night. The reason was a project he had undertaken, at his own discretion, to apologize for something. He was also hoping it might lead to something more between himself and the recipient of the gift.

All of Søren's concentration was taken with the task at hand, curling a c-section bar of steel into a loop while red hot, forming a perfect circle. A wheel. Much like the many spoked wheel of a bicycle, although this one would be larger. Well, it would be a wheel, in time. For now it was just a rim. Søren quenched the loop of steel, the oil making a darkly sibilant hiss as it cooled the metal. The guildsman smiled, enjoying the activity.

It had been a long time since he had been employed as a blacksmith, but Søren still remembered everything. Some would say it was like riding a bicycle. For Søren it was a passion, something he always tried to dedicate a little time to every day. Over the past few years, everything else had fallen by the wayside as he concentrated on raising his son, Konrad. Now Konrad was old enough to look after himself, even earn some coin in his spare time. Søren had hoped his son would take up the family trade.

Instead, Konrad defied convention by becoming a baker. A stout young man, with a mane of red-gold hair just as unruly as his father's. Søren smiled at the thought. He had not approved of Konrad's choices at first, but after tasting the various savories his son made—along with having a ready supply of fresh bread—Søren had every reason to be proud. Soot covered hands reached into the satchel on the back wall, retrieving one of Konrad's savories. Those same hands placed the savory on a small metal plate, and then placed that plate atop the coals in the forge.

Søren turned back to the designs he had sketched out over the previous days. He had already managed to complete the frame. Narrower than usual, but Queen Elsa was quite slight compared to most of the people in Arendelle. The problem facing the frame now was that it was only that—a frame. Hard metal bars, wrought into shape and set aside. The seamstresses would have to be approached for options. Padding would of course be required, but Søren knew metals, not fabrics.

There was one piece that would not be covered. The very top of the backrest. Søren considered it some of his finest work, a finely wrought snowflake, embossed in silver filigree against a round field of steel. The townspeople of Arendelle might never see that symbol, but he knew Queen Elsa would. She would see it every time she looked at the chair. Hopefully it would remind her of him, what his hands were capable of. What he wished they might one day touch.

Søren wanted to help the Queen, but he also wanted more. It would start with the chair, and an apology for his behaviour at lunch that day. Søren still wondered why Elsa had said those things to him. They were obviously private, and painful—had she revealed them without meaning to? Søren took some time to consider this, checking on his savory as his mind wandered. Elsa had been angry, more so than shocked or sad, as he might have expected with such a revelation. Perhaps anger loosened her tongue. To a dangerous degree, he thought darkly.

It was more than that, and Søren knew it. He had hurt her, and he wanted to make up for it. His first gift would pave the way for something more to blossom between them. It had been a long time since he had known Sylvi's touch. Had known the touch of any woman. It had been a long time since Konrad had anything close to a mother in his life. Søren figured they both deserved someone new in their lives. A good person. A kind person. A person who knew how to protect herself. And to Søren, Elsa was that person.

Firing the coals in the forge again, Søren placed the hoop of metal he had been working with in the flames. He used a pair of tongs to retrieve his savory after a few minutes, enjoying the flavour of the meat and spiced gravy. His son truly knew how to make a satisfying snack. Small wonder the bakery he worked at was doing so well. Søren watched the steel hoop slowly change colour as he ate, and he fired the forge to greater temperatures. Straw was the first colour, then brown, purple, finally, as dark blue began to creep towards the edges of the hoop, Søren removed it from the forge, placing it in the cooling rack.

Now he needed to make a matching hoop for the other wheel. An axle, hubs for the spokes. Tyres—another person to bring in, another guild to seek help from. Søren was wise enough to know where his skills lay, and more importantly, where they did not lie. He was not prone to making the arrogant mistakes of his youth, where he had thought that one man could do everything. Almost everything. He thought of Sylvi, wondered what she would have made of the Queen—of his current passionate work. Søren smiled ruefully. He knew exactly what Sylvi would have said—and how directly it would have been delivered.

* * *

Elsewhere, Per Johanssen, the minister of trade, was slumped over his desk, snoring lightly. That suited the only other occupant of his office just fine. Stefan Larsson gently pried a document from beneath the older man's arms. It was the most recent reply from Spain, delivered as a formal letter. From the lack of a postmark—and the inclusion of a royal seal—Larsson assumed it had to have been delivered by diplomatic courier, probably the clipper he had seen pull into harbour the previous day. The ship had been flying Spanish colours, but he could not be sure it was the right ship. Not until he saw the letter.

As a scribe Larsson had a good excuse for knowing many languages, especially as the ruling council was not the first political body he had served. Translation had often been required in the past, at his previous position with the merchantmen, and that was how he had come to minister Johanssen's attention. Officially he worked for the ruling council, taking notes, transcribing records, and generally playing the part of the good little assistant. His faculty for remembering odd details and most conversations made his true role much easier.

That was why he was scribbling in a notebook right now about the trade deal. A note he knew his masters would receive far sooner than the king of Spain would get minister Johanssen's reply. Time Larsson's masters could use to plan and react. Because severing trade with Weselton was not something to be done lightly—or at all. There would be repercussions. Arendelle was not feeling them yet, but the shortage of Weseltonian goods would soon be felt. Especially if something were to disrupt the trade negotiations with Spain. His job would have been so much easier had minister Johanssen not been so maddeningly robust for his age.

Replacing the letter, Larsson slipped out of Per Johanssen's office, leaving no sign he'd ever been there. It was very late, he only glimpsed two other people on his walk home. One was heard more than seen, Søren, banging away at some ludicrous project. Well, it was better than the paperwork he'd been drowning under, Larsson assumed. Or maybe it was a way of venting his frustration at the same. That hammering had sounded quite energetic.

The other person he passed paid him no attention. Larsson liked it that way. He wore a properly tailored suit, with an overcoat of dark grey wool. Nondescript and easily forgotten. He wore his regular suit—a size too small—during the day, and affected a generally unkempt appearance. People were likely to underestimate him that way. It was surprising that no one yet suspected him of what he was really doing. Or perhaps, I really am that good, he allowed himself a moment of pride in his spycraft. After attempting to sabotage the deal with Spain, he was going to need a scapegoat. Larsson went over the aides minister Johanssen employed in his mind. Yes, Einar would work perfectly. Young, defiant, and with so much to prove.

* * *

Sunlight streamed in through high windows, and Vanja Ostberg-Lang blinked back tears. The sun was disgustingly bright this early in the morning. The council advisor looked at the devastation that lay in her wake. Two drunk sailors, passed out on benches. A slowly sobering corporal, half on the floor, propped up somewhat by the end of a broken table. A blacksmith and an ice harvester—each with a glorious black eye. Vanja rubbed at her left eye. Definitely swollen. Nothing for it. Not with a council meeting after lunch.

Vanja blinked against the sunlight, turning around carefully to prevent her head from spinning any faster. She didn't remember much of the incident, but an axe was embedded in the splintered remains of a viking shield. What was left of the shield sat about three feet to her right. Vanja remembered something about a broken nose, and raised a hand to gently check for damage. Not her nose then. Frida? Well, it was possible, she had been serving most of them the previous night. It didn't matter that Vanja had drunk most them under the table. The remaining three caused enough trouble for an entire drunken mob.

Something else came back to Vanja. How Frida had finally ended the drunken brawl—well, a serving tray would explain the ringing in her ears. There was a slight swelling where she suspected the serving girl had walloped her with the tray. Why Frida had hit her first Vanja couldn't be sure. Maybe because everyone had been attempting to outdo her at the time. Vanja stood, yawning, and immediately regretted the decision. Standing sent her brains rocketing skywards, and the yawn did something similar to the contents of her stomach. Vanja snapped her mouth shut and sat down again quickly. Maybe she needed a little more time collect her thoughts before heading off.

In a few hours she would have to support the Queen, and the rest of the council, in everything they did. She would voice her opinion as advisor, then they would most likely ignore her, as usual. But Queen Elsa brought a new power to the council, and Vanja wasn't entirely sure she was happy with the new dynamic. Monarchs had it easy. The Queen especially so—people loved pretending to support those less fortunate than themselves. That's why charities existed. Vanja snorted in disgust, rolling her eyes for an invisible audience. The Queen as a cripple was getting more than her usual share of attention and sympathy from the rest of the council.

Vanja quietly wished for the Queen to make some terrible decision, and to have that choice see her deposed, or at least removed from the council. Then she thought about who would be first in line for that position if Elsa left. Perhaps the current royal posterior upon that seat was truly the lesser of two evils. Vanja tried to imagine 'Queen' Anna, and failed utterly. But something told her, somehow, that an eternal winter would be a vastly preferable kind of disaster compared to Princess Anna ascending to the throne.

* * *

Bishop Clarence Gudbrand was worried, nervously thumbing through a sheaf of notes he had made after the last Mass. By all accounts it had been a strong sermon, powerfully delivered. The messages of forgiveness and acceptance had rung true for many among the congregation, but there were those who spoke in dark whispers, a fact Bishop Gudbrand took especial note of. Perhaps the allegory between the variously persecuted prophets and their eventual vindication and Queen Elsa and her—powers—had not been clear enough.

Perhaps it had been enough, but those men and women simply refused to accept it. Bishop Gudbrand himself was still having a hard time reconciling what he knew of Queen Elsa, her parents and sister, and what he knew now. The king had spoken of a curse, in passing, several times. Gudbrand had taken it to mean one of the king's daughters was suffering from some sort of mental affliction. For a long time he had hoped it had gone away; been cured or excised in some fashion.

Then Elsa had fled the coronation ball, and everything had been revealed. Bishop Gudbrand wished he knew nothing of it. In all his years amongst the clergy, he knew such powers—such magic—were the sole province of the Fallen One, the lord of darkness. By agreeing to serve on the ruling council again, he hoped to discover what truth lay behind those words. Was their Queen truly cursed—the Spawn of Chernaborg, as some said—or had her powers been granted by divine agency, to test the faith of her subjects. It was a sensitive and disturbing issue, and Bishop Gudbrand planned to use more than just his faith to find the answers he sought.

* * *

Later that morning, Justicar Hanne Kristoffersen was also looking for answers. Politely, among his aides. They had seemed much calmer than usual when they arrived at the courthouse on this morning. He had grilled all of them over their surprising calmness and lack of urgency. They had responded by showing him the vast piles of paperwork they had churned through over the previous week, and the handful of open cases they were still working on. Justicar Kristoffersen expected no less. But that now left his aides with worrying amounts of freedom.

Well, freedom was always worrying, but these three, Torsten and Ansa, along with Ari Stendahl were good folks. They were old friends, growing up together on the outskirts of Arendelle. They had come to Justicar Kristoffersen's attention during their schooling. Torsten had a good head on his shoulders, a firmly rational mind, and an excellent memory. He was an excellent understudy to Kristoffersen himself, and he hoped someday to promote the young man to the status of Judge. Ansa was an exceedingly smart young woman—too smart for her own good. The trail of clues she had uncovered in the Whaler's Fiasco of 1837 had almost cost her her life, but proved her worth as an investigator par excellence. Justicar Kristoffersen had insisted she come under his tutelage. Lastly, young Ari Stendahl, a lad of no more than nineteen, youngest of the three. He had been rescued from the streets of a neighbouring town, rescued by Justicar Kristoffersen when the Justicar saw why he had been cast out. Ari was an expert at finding and selling secrets. He was Justicar Kristoffersen's secret weapon during disputes and feuds.

None of them were him, of course, Justicar Kristoffersen reflected. His three aides were more aspects of himself that he had cultivated together. A thirst for knowledge, and the proof of what was right and wrong. A desire to know every detail of a story before acting upon it. And finally, the ability to discover secrets most people would prefer to take to their graves. His aides might not be him, but when they worked together they were staggeringly effective. Justicar Kristoffersen closed the ledger he had been scrawling these notes in, then began his journey to the castle. The meeting would start just after lunch.

* * *

Marshal Markus Gerhardt stared down the table at the current Queen of Arendelle. He had taken the time to learn more about the Queen from what little public information was available, and what he'd been able to infer from the other council members' interactions with her. There was no desire to see a repeat of what had happened during their last meeting, regardless of how justified either of them had felt in making their respective statements. Marshal Gerhardt knew that Queen Elsa's powers were the most powerful weapon in Arendelle's arsenal. He'd just gone about trying to show her that in the wrong way. That was why he had opted to talk first. Marshal Gerhardt took a deep, calming breath, and began.

"My apologies for my behaviour at the last meeting, your majesty. I know now, in some way, how you view you powers. It would please me, however, if I could explain how they appear from a purely military viewpoint—as I so clumsily attempted to do last time."

Elsa was frowning, but she said nothing. Gerhardt could almost see the keen intelligence at work behind those pale blue eyes. It was the coldly calculating kind of intelligence he could respect. The Queen spread her hands, palms up, offering him the table. Gerhardt gave a small bow of acceptance, noticing the aura of frost around those delicate hands. Delicate, yet immensely powerful.

"Thank you, you majesty. I realize that comparing your powers to a weapon was tactless in consideration of what people say they have done in the past. However, from a military point of view, especially one as small as our own, we must claim every advantage we can find, no matter how small. The advantage of your magic however, is in no way considered small. Both the tactical and strategic possibilities are staggering. I know that some of what I am about to say will disturb you, but if possible, please hold your tongue until I finish explaining everything."

Elsa frowned, furrowing her brow and giving the Marshal a dark look, but she remained silent. Frost slowly crept across the table beneath her hands.

"When I mention tactical possibilities, I mean to say what is possible upon the field of battle, in combat. From what I have heard about your powers, I can see that they would be powerful in both offensive and defensive roles. Offensively it would be possible to freeze individual soldiers—perhaps just as blocks of ice, to prevent them moving. The ice spikes you create could obviously be thrown, and spears and javelins still serve some peoples as highly effective weapons. Defensively you could create walls of ice that might be thick enough to stop bullets. You could create rings of ice spikes as palisades to hold enemy infantry and cavalry at bay. In some cases you could influence parts of the battle without even fighting. Calling down fog, thick snow, icing the ground underneath enemy soldiers, freezing weapons solid.

"While the tactical possibilities are interesting, it is the strategic use of your powers that could ensure Arendelle's future safety against all threats. Were an army to attempt an invasion, you could create a storm so severe that they would be forced to turn back. You could freeze all their supply lines, destroy their support elements without firing a single shot or landing any blows. If an attack were to come from the sea, you could easily freeze it over, trapping the ships and sailors until they could be dealt with, or forced to turn back. Arendelle could, in effect, fight without fighting. Without ever having to lose a man in combat."

Marshal Gerhardt saw the fractal spirals of ice wending their way across the table. The furious expression on the Queen's face. The fury was softened by something Gerhardt couldn't quite catch. Some glimmer of hope or understanding or something entirely different. Perhaps it was the last line. Was the Queen a pacifist?

"I know this is hard to take in, your majesty, but that is the military assessment of the utility of your powers. My assessment. I know you would never use your powers in those ways. You would never want to. Perhaps you are afraid that once you do so, you would be unafraid to do so again. Perhaps you are right, but remember, as Queen, you—and you alone—have the final say in all military matters. Arendelle has soldiers. Brave young men willing to follow any order they are given. Willing to fight for their country. And yes, in the end, willing to die for it as well. They would sell their lives most dearly, but they would still be dead.

"It is true that in every battle there are casualties. Commanders try to ensure that their enemies suffer many more, such that they lose the will to fight. The good commanders remember. The dead have names. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten. But those same commanders always ask themselves the same question. They never stop asking. They never will, until they die, or until there are no more wars. They ask this: 'What else could I have done?'. They ask this so that they always remember the cost of battle. The cost in lives lost and families torn asunder. They ask, because they know, next time, it will be worse. That is the way of war.

"So, Queen Elsa, knowing what the soldiers in your army are willing to do, I ask only this: Would _you_ do any less?"

Frosted snowflakes covered half the table as Elsa took a deep, shuddering breath, hiding her face behind her hands. When she spoke, it wasn't the voice of the Queen. It was a voice frail and full of hurt, freshly afraid of the world's cruelty.

"Leave," Gerhardt turned for the door, opening it quietly, standing on the threshold. There was a long silence. No one dared speak until they heard Elsa breathlessly whisper something else. "All of you."


	21. False Divinity

There was an old adage about giving someone sufficient rope, and Elsa had thought that that was what she was doing with Marshal Gerhardt, allowing him to speak so bluntly in front of the council. What he had suggested awoke a dark fury within her, but she held it at bay. She wanted to know what he had to say. To see if it was worthwhile allowing him to retain a seat on the council. After all the talk of her powers being used to defend Arendelle—and implying that she would personally be responsible for halting and killing entire armies—Elsa had been completely unprepared for Marshal Gerhardt to appeal to her sense of duty and humanity.

She had been unprepared for him to be _right_. The men serving her by serving in Arendelle's military… how could _she_ do any less. They were prepared, quite literally, to die for her. If they ever entered battle those brave young men knew it was a possibility. All of them. Gerhardt had said something about the dead having names. It hadn't been said as an appeal either. She had seen what flashed behind his eyes when he spoke those words. He knew from bitter experience.

Elsa lowered her hands, gently wiping her cheeks. It took a moment, but she was able to unfreeze the table with relative ease. She used her magic for an instant to form a mirror of ice in her right hand. She dispelled it a moment later, satisfied that no evidence remained on her face. The rest of the council could guess, of course, but they wouldn't know. Wheeling her icy chair away from the table, Elsa hoped the other council members had not gone far. There was still much to discuss. Well, she hoped there was. Most of them had thickly bound ledgers to refer to.

She found the council's advisor—miss Ostberg-Lang—first, waiting just outside the door to the meeting room, leaning against the wall.

"I'd better collect the others then. They can't have gone too far," Ostberg-Lang pointed back at the door to the meeting room. "Wait in there. Won't be too long."

Back inside the meeting room, with the rest of the council present, Elsa spared a glance at the ornate grandfather clock on the far side of the room. It had only taken a grand total of ten minutes to reunite the council. Several of the members so seated were fidgeting nervously. No one spoke. None of them were sure if they should speak. Elsa could deal with that. It just meant she had to take charge, as usual.

"Minister Johanssen, do I hear that the negotiations with Spain are going well?"

"Very well," the older man nodded, smiling. "A few wrinkles here and there, but they should be ironed out within a fortnight or so. Before we finalize the deal, it may prove wise to send a diplomatic mission to Spain. The Queen and her consort, it must be said, are not on particularly good terms. I would volunteer myself, but I fear my body is not yet ready for the rigours of such a journey."

"Who goes is up to you, minister Johanssen. You have a much firmer grasp on your aides' capabilities than I ever will. Now, is there anything else?"

Minister Johanssen remained quiet, scribbling a short note in his ledger.

"Very well, I guess the guilds are next. Søren?"

"Much the same as last week, your majesty. They still refuse to talk to each other or cooperate on most tasks. I am beginning to think they are doing this just to spite my efforts at creating a unified front for the workers," Søren spread his hands helplessly in the air. "I haven't heard of any incidents involving the castle, so I'm going to assume everyone managed to stay polite this week?"

"They did. Although the man who came in this morning had a black eye and a suspiciously furtive demeanor."

"Probably my fault," Vanja Ostberg-Lang spoke up. "There was some roughhousing at Hus av Strykejern last night. Didn't appreciate the way he touched me."

Vanja winked as she said that, then rubbed her eye. Elsa couldn't help but notice the council's advisor was also developing a black eye. Perhaps something to discuss later.

"Aside from that, the only issue the guilds are having is the lack of precious metals that Weselton used to supply. Some farmers are also running short on seed, but I know that most of it is bluster—they're afraid of suffering a harsher winter than usual this year, and want extra, just in case. I won't blame them for trying," Søren smiled, then shook his head, falling silent.

"Thank you Søren," Elsa turned to face the next member of the council. "Justicar Krisotffersen, do the courts have any news for us?"

"There has been a recent spate of thefts, but we have a solid lead on those who are probably responsible. It would be helpful if we could have a few members of the town guard to help us with future investigations. We could even establish a proper constabulary. Arendelle continues to grow, and one day it will be a necessity, not a nicety."

Elsa frowned, considering what Justicar Kristoffersen had just said. Arendelle was a growing town, but not quickly, not from the reports she was privy to. A constabulary would not be fully necessary for some time to come. The request for the town guard was not unreasonable, and it would give them some variety in their work. Probably a good idea in the long run. Then, if they had to establish a constabulary at some point in the future, there would be appropriately skilled men to staff the place.

"I do not think a constabulary is necessary yet, Justicar Kristoffersen. I will, however, free up a number of the town guard to assist your investigations. Will six men be sufficient?"

Justicar Kristoffersen opened his ledger, inspecting his notes. "Six will be adequate. If more men could be made available it would be helpful, but it is not critical to our current investigations."

"If I find guards with an excessive amount of free time, I shall direct them to assist you," Elsa clasped her hands, then set her gaze upon the only full member she had yet to address. "Bishop Gudbrand, have you made any progress?"

"I may have, you majesty, but I keep feeling like we are taking one step forward and two steps back. It may be that those concerned about your powers are too set in their ways to change their opinion. It may be that some of the congregation are simply afraid—I know it is not an air you deliberately cultivate, but your powers, combined with the fact you are not often seen makes you seem cold and distant, and to some, I am sure, darkly mysterious.

"Of the men I mentioned last time, I have seen neither hide nor hair, so they may well be gone. I would certainly hope so."

"I hope so too, Bishop Gudbrand. I would like to know I am safe while walking the streets of my own town. Admittedly, I have not felt any especial danger while exploring the town, but I have always had an escort of some kind, or I have been in view of the townsfolk. Perhaps those with darker intentions are simply afraid to strike—and that is not a comforting thought."

Marshal Gerhardt cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps, if the Queen is concerned for her safety, she could employ a bodyguard. I know of several men perfectly suited to the role—I would trust them with my own life."

"If I were to employ a bodyguard, Marshal, the one I employed would be chosen at my sole discretion," Elsa did not say that she was unlikely to trust anyone the Marshal chose. If she was to have a bodyguard, their duties would most likely extend to include her general care while outside the castle, amongst other things. It would be a position of considerable trust. On both sides. It was not something she could trust Marshal Gerhardt to be impartial about.

Marshal Gerhardt merely nodded, but Elsa saw something else flash behind his eyes. She hoped it was merely annoyance at being rebuffed, but feared it was something far worse. Bishop Gudbrand was thumbing through the stack of notes he had, staring intently at one particular line. Trepidation shadowed his face as he spoke.

"Queen Elsa, as the religious representative of this council, it falls to me discuss matters concerning higher powers, and gifts or curses. Many members of the congregation—and of the clergy—are quite interested in learning what caused the manifestation of your powers. They wish to know if you are gifted by the Almighty, or cursed by the Fallen One. This may sound impertinent—actually, it is—but I would like to ask if, at some other time, we could explore the true nature of your powers?"

Elsa held the bishop's gaze. He didn't flinch. "Why not now? There is no other business to discuss here."

There was a general shuffling as the others made to leave. All except Gerhardt.

"You too Marshal. I know exactly what you want from my powers, and you're not getting it. Not today," Elsa waved her hand and sent a swath of frost across the table, stopping just short of Gerhardt. He got the message. I'll never use my powers the way _you_ want me to, Elsa swore to herself. "Now, Bishop Gudbrand, if you would be so kind as to assist me in moving to the library, we can begin."

"Oh, oh, yes your majesty," Gudbrand schooled his features into something he hoped was innocent expression as he moved behind Elsa's wheelchair, feeling the chill of the ice like the bite of an animal as he gripped the handles. He wasn't sure if it was going to be a demonstration or a history lesson, but he was sure it was going to be enlightening.

* * *

Elsa had always enjoyed the library. It was not, as many surmised, a large room. In fact, it was not much larger than her own bedroom. But, unlike her bedroom, every inch of the walls was covered in bookcases, countless volumes by authors past and present. Not all of it was dull, dry history and lineage either. There were several romances, the collected works of Shakespeare, and some traditional fairy tales. There were also painstakingly translated and illustrated copies of both the Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda. They were among Elsa's favourite books. In her childhood she had often wondered if she were actually descended from one of the Jotunn. If she was, she knew it would fly in the face of everything Bishop Gudbrand believed in. But aside from mythic interpretation, she had no way of knowing what had given her her powers. Her curse. There were positives, of course, as she knew now, but for the longest time all they had brought her was pain and isolation. The fear of hurting someone else.

Bishop Gudbrand sat opposite Elsa at the largest desk in the room. Several books were opened between them, including the Eddas. A lot of those texts would have been deemed heretical in an earlier age. They still might be, but her father had saved them from the pyre. His desire to understand what his daughter was going through was almost as strong as Elsa's desire to understand what her magic actually was.

"Your father saved a lot of older books and codices."

"He did. For me. I think he wanted answers just as badly as I did—as I do. I've spent countless hours with those books as my only companions. All I can tell you is this, Bishop Gudbrand: the answer we seek, it's not in there."

"Perhaps not," Gudbrand agreed. "I seek a slightly different answer however. You want to know why, or how. I want to know _who_. It's quite an important distinction, especially as I can see only two possible answers, as I mentioned at the council meeting. The problem here is that neither answer seems satisfactory. If your powers are indeed a curse, then that implies they should be excised—that you are being punished for the sins of the father, as it were. But if your powers are a gift, that implies the eyes of the divine are upon you, and your every action is being judged—as are the actions of all those around you. Frankly, the idea of finding an answer scares me beyond belief, your majesty."

Elsa considered those words very carefully. Not just what Bishop Gudbrand had said, but how he said it. When he mentioned there being only two possibilities, Elsa knew the Bishop would not trust any other explanation, no matter how rational. That he outlined his suppositions so clearly was concerning. Elsa had not had much experience dealing with fanatics. Even if the Bishop was still doubtful of the provenance of her powers, she doubted being able to provide a 'correct' answer. If it could be proved that her ice magic was somehow infernal in nature, that would damn her in his eyes. If she denied knowing where it came from, that would be just as damning. And if she protested that it was divine—not that she thought for a moment it was—that would simply be called out as an infernal soul denying its true nature. She was to be damned, and this man sitting in front of her was to be the instrument of her damnation.

"I am still searching my soul for how I should treat your powers," Bishop Gudbrand continued to speak, his voice soft. "But I have come up blank thus far. Nothing is told of powers like yours in the holy books. The only mention is of witchcraft, and the signs of the witch. The punishment laid out is terrible, and that is one of the things I fear. If your powers are a curse, I know there are many members of the congregation who would call on me to enact that punishment. I could not, in good faith, deny that request. But I have no proof you are a true witch."

Elsa managed to hide her reaction as the Bishop spoke. She had read texts of medieval times. She knew exactly what would have become of her then, overprotective father or not. And the good Bishop had as much as promised to do the same if he thought her powers infernal in nature. She shuddered, wringing her hands in her lap, then absent-mindedly began to leaf through the book in front of her. Frost gathered around her fingertips, leaving little imprints of ice in the corner of each page. If it came down to it, she knew what she would have to do—but she wouldn't. To do _that_ would damn her completely. She could run, escape somehow, find a way to live in the mountains, back in her palace, with—that was it, proof her powers could be divine.

"Unfortunately, I have no proof you are not a witch, either," Bishop Gudbrand sounded disappointed. "Your relationship with your sister, how little you are seen around town. But you have no cauldron, no broomstick—though I admit a broomstick might be faster than your chair. Cliches, it might seem, but they say it is the mark of the witch to own such things. You could quite easily have placed a spell upon your sister to hide your secrets, perhaps even upon the council. But I doubt that very much."

Elsa took a deep breath, spreading her hands on the table. What she was about to reveal was something she had only realized was possible when she made Marshmallow. She had never used that power since. It was sacred. Divine. The breath of life was not a toy.

"You asked if my powers could be divine?"

"I did, but I fear more that they have an infernal source."

"With these hands," Elsa spoke in a measured, even tone. "I have created life. What further proof of divinity would you need?"

Elsa watched as Bishop Gudbrand's face fell and his eyes widened in shock. His brows furrowed and he pointed straight at her, his right arm trembling with righteous fury.

"Abomination!" the voice was so loud it made Elsa wonder if it truly had boomed forth from the heavens. "Only the divine can create life. What you have made—attempted to make—is a profanation of all that is good. None but the divine can create life. No one amongst mankind can wield such a power. No one."

Elsa cowered in her chair, arms raised to shield her face, her head turned aside. The temperature in the library had dropped ten degrees. Frost was forming on the windows. The Bishop's breath was beginning to mist in the air. But still he ranted on, about the evils of witchcraft, and the dark sorcery her father must have wielded. Elsa could feel the black pit in her stomach opening up to swallow her. This was not how it was supposed to go. How could it have gone so wrong?

Ice covered every surface, hooks and spikes slowly crawling from the walls. Walls that shifted from purple to red. Gudbrand towered over her, and Elsa was paralyzed with fear. She couldn't move. Bishop Gudbrand was too imposing. She couldn't move, because she was afraid of what she might unleash if she did. She hadn't been this scared, this angry, since… since… since Anna.

Elsa brought her fist crashing down on the desk in front of her. The ice shattered in a rippling wave, silencing the Bishop. She spoke a single, deadly word. It was a word, combined with her magic, that she had used only twice in the past. It was a very final word. It meant she had reached the end of her patience and self control. Bishop Gudbrand had even witnessed one of the prior uses.

"Enough!"

The desk erupted in a wall of ice spikes as the temperature in the room dropped another twenty degrees. Bishop Gudbrand scrambled back, almost falling over in his haste to avoid being impaled. Elsa saw the look on his face. She knew there was no salvaging this situation, but she had to try. She had to. She owed it to herself, if no one else. It looked bad, no, terrible, but she was going to try anyway. It wasn't her fault that he had succeeded in making her that angry.

"Sit. Down," Elsa ordered, summoning a gust of wind to slam the door behind the Bishop. "Now we're going to have a talk. About how I've had to live with this curse for _twenty years_. Then we're going to talk about the fact my magic has the power to kill. And lastly, we're going to talk about how creating life is the only purely good thing my magic has ever done."

Bishop Gudbrand sat, slowly, shivering. It wasn't the cold. It was the incredibly forceful reminder that despite being crippled, despite being cursed, Elsa—Queen Elsa—was literally the most powerful person in all of Arendelle. Gudbrand was legitimately terrified of what would happen next. Of what would happen if he left this room and hadn't changed his mind—or even if he would be allowed to leave. The Queen had a lot of power. She had cowed Marshal Gerhardt into leaving a council meeting in session. Gudbrand had never seen that happen before. Gerhardt _never_ left.

"It–it's freezing i–in here," Bishop Gudbrand's teeth chattered as he spoke.

"Then I'll make this quick," Elsa promised.

She spoke eloquently, with grace. She explained her childhood traumas. How she had managed to fight her demons, to keep them at bay. It was not the story Bishop Gudbrand had been expecting. It was not about dark pacts, or infernal texts, or even disobeying her parents. It was a story about a little girl, discovering far too young how cruel the world really was. It was the story of a sinner, constantly seeking to atone for her past. It was the story of a young woman, riven with loss and doubt, but still standing strong enough to lead a kingdom. It was the story, honestly told, of how her powers were as dangerous as they were mysterious. It was the story of how little she truly knew of her powers. It was the story, Bishop Gudbrand was quite sure, that would one day make her a saint. Had not young Joan's story started much the same way?

Bishop Gudbrand hadn't noticed while Elsa spoke, but the room was now considerably warmer, the walls merely frosted, not iced over. The desk was dark wood, not spears of ice.

"I do not think," Gudbrand spoke carefully. "That you should tell anyone else about your ability to create life. Especially not Gerhardt."

"But most of the town has seen Olaf, they have to have figured it out by now."

"Your pet snowman?"

"Yes."

"Have they?" Gudbrand asked honestly. "Do they know it was _deliberate?_ "

Elsa sighed. "Even _I_ don't know if it was deliberate. I was just as surprised as everyone else the first time I saw him."

"Then perhaps it was an accident. Perhaps you _don't_ have the power to create life. Perhaps, in your darkest moment, the Divine decided to take pity upon you, and showed you the greatest kindness."

"But Olaf rescued my sister, not me."

"I have seen Princess Anna together with you, Queen Elsa. I am quite sure the Divine had His reasons. Perhaps Olaf rescued Anna so that she could rescue you."

Elsa nodded, unable to speak. Gudbrand, satisfied at last with the answers he had, stood, bowed, and turned to leave. Elsa sat behind the desk, idly leafing through the pages of the book in front of her. She had created Olaf, accidentally, but the little snowman had gone on to save her sister's life. Perhaps Bishop Gudbrand's theory was not quite so outlandish after all.

Perhaps it was even the truth.


	22. A New Dawn

Elsa lay in bed, utterly exhausted. She had not been terribly active during the day, but the council meeting, and the subsequent discussion with Bishop Gudbrand had been mentally and emotionally taxing. She knew she had not handled it well. She didn't want the Bishop's mind to have been changed because he was afraid, she wanted it to be changed because he believed in her. She hoped he did. Hoped he still could after such a display. Elsa sighed, bringing her arms up to hug herself. She was a terrible person—how she'd acted today proved that. She hadn't told the Bishop about Marshmallow either. Then again, only herself, Anna, and Kristoff knew of that snow monster.

Elsa found herself once again wondering if Marshmallow had survived the siege. The only way to know for sure would be to go back to the ice palace and find out. But for that she needed to get out of town for a day or two. Would need Anna's help. But she couldn't leave. She had to apologize to Bishop Gudbrand for treating him like that. She sighed, rubbing her arms. She might even owe Marshal Gerhardt an apology, if it went that far.

"I'm a terrible person," she spoke to the night.

"Nah, you're nice, an' soft, and fun and stuff," came a half-comprehensible reply. An arm draped around her as Anna snuggled into her back. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I—is it okay to say 'no', Anna?"

"Yeah, s'okay," Anna waved airily. "Not really 'wake righ' now. Oooh, unicorns."

Elsa rolled her eyes, facing away from her sister. Then again, Anna did have the excuse of not being entirely awake. It was well after midnight, but it wasn't Anna's fault Elsa couldn't sleep. Elsa kept going over the discussion in her mind. It was at the moment she revealed she could create life. She remembered a phrase from several of her stories. 'Like a man possessed', and she was fairly sure she'd seen just that. The question, of course, was possessed by _what?_

She had no real answer. Religious fervour, perhaps. Righteous fury—Elsa decided that definitely sounded right. Or perhaps simple shock at such a revelation? It was entirely possible. After all, Bishop Gudbrand had said creating life was the sole province of the Divine. Could it be that he thought she was comparing herself to a god? Elsa frowned inwardly. That was the last thing she would compare herself to. A demon maybe, or a cursed soul, but never a god. And then there was what Gudbrand had said about her creation of Olaf.

Elsa still had no idea if that had been deliberate. There was a certain elegance to the Bishop's theory. She liked that elegance—but how could she explain Marshmallow? Everything just fell apart at that point. And it still felt like she'd terrified the Bishop into changing his mind, not calmly convinced him. She was still a little afraid of what Bishop Gudbrand had said. What if she really was granted her powers by the Fallen One. Would Anna be taken away?

Elsa shivered. That was her real fear now. Not driving Anna away, or hurting her—though those still played on her mind—but the thought that Anna might be taken away from her because of her past transgressions. She had refused to acknowledge her sister for thirteen long years. Now she had Anna back, and she still felt like she didn't deserve her. And she was afraid of something—anything—proving her right. She couldn't help it. After thirteen years of isolation she didn't have many bright moments to fall back on. Only her most recent memories. And not all of those were exactly happy either.

"Sometimes I just want to run away," Elsa admitted sadly to a softly snoring Anna. "To keep you safe… so I feel safe."

Anna muttered something incomprehensible, then rolled to the side, somehow pulling at Elsa's hair. Elsa grimaced, then gently disentangled her hair from Anna's nightgown. She had absolutely no idea how it had gotten that tangled, but these things just seemed to happen around Anna. It was almost as if her sister projected chaos and disorder. Elsa felt her sister's hair, the tangled mass of curls it always wound up as. Quite how Anna managed to do this within half an hour of going to bed was still something of a mystery, but it was also part of her charm. She smiled, remembering the chess game they had played several days ago. How she had cast Anna as the evil princess, then played dead when Anna's snowball had struck her. The look of joy on Anna's face had been magnificent. Elsa wished she had more memories like that.

Rolling herself over, Elsa wrapped her sister in a sleepy hug. She promised herself, before falling asleep with her sister in her arms, that she was going to try harder to _make_ better memories. For both of them. They deserved that kind of happiness. They also deserved the happiness other people could bring. Elsa knew that meant Kristoff for Anna, but she wasn't sure who it meant for her. She had feelings for Anna—how could she not, her sister was simply amazing—but she knew those were the kind of feelings she should never act on. Then there was Søren. He was clearly older than her, she thought he was perhaps in his thirties, but couldn't tell much beyond that. The guildsman liked her, that was clear enough, and he was willing to reach out to her… but he took liberties when he spoke sometimes. Finally, there was Hank. Lieutenant Erikson, so uptight and formal… she had to find a way to get him to loosen up, to see the real him. Well, he was used to following orders, acting all proper on parades. He was a military man. An officer and a…

Elsa smiled. Something Gerhardt had mentioned struck her then. If she was concerned for her safety, why not employ a bodyguard? And as Queen, did she not have the ultimate power in choosing who that might be. As a gentleman, how could he refuse? Elsa smiled sleepily, nestling against her sister. There was a way it might work. Maybe… maybe she had a chance after all.

* * *

The following morning saw Elsa enjoying a solitary breakfast. Toast and eggs, nothing fancy. Shortly after waking up she had decided what today was going to be about. That meant nothing fancy, nothing taxing, nothing boring. Today was going to be something to remember. Because today, Elsa had decided, was going to be all about Anna. With the council running smoothly, and so few issues requiring attention right now Elsa had decided she would take a day off from being the Queen. Instead, today, she was going to concentrate on being the best sister she could possibly be. Anna deserved no less.

That was why she made sure to set the tray aside _before_ waking Anna. She had worked hard to make these things—admittedly, she'd asked for help from the kitchen staff at some points, but she at least _tried_ to do it herself. Her own solitary breakfast had been something of a test run. It honestly hadn't been too bad. In the same way she might have described lutefisk as 'not too bad'. Elsa tapped her sister on the shoulder. Nothing. Tried again. Still nothing. Tried shaking Anna. Strange mumbling.

"Wake up Anna!"

"I'm awake. What time is did I miss something corneration?"

"Anna,"

"Up for hours," Anna yawned. She turned to Elsa. Saw the tray on the nightstand. Anna blinked, uncomprehending. Her brain still needed more time to properly engage and what was Elsa doing? Was that… had she?

"Did you…?" was what the red-headed princess of Arendelle finally asked her sister, gesturing to the tray.

"Breakfast. Just for you," Elsa smiled encouragingly. "I made it myself."

"Umm… you made me breakfast?" Anna mumbled, grabbing the glass of what passed for freshly squeezed orange juice. She made no comment on the large pieces of orange pulp still floating in the glass. "Ugh, that's way too sweet—who helped you with that one?"

"The kitchen staff. I thought you'd appreciate breakfast in bed. My bed."

"No, no, I appreciate it, it's just that juice is really, really sweet. Were Kjellson's kids in the kitchen?"

"I didn't _see_ any children."

"Did you _hear_ any?"

"Maybe," Elsa couldn't really be sure what she'd heard in the kitchen. It was, to her, a very loud place, not at all like what she was used to. She had tried to tune out everything but the voice of the person currently helping her. Now Anna was telling her that she needed to pay more attention. Because apparently Elsa wasn't the only one capable of sabotaging her attempts at cookery.

"Did you really make this?" Anna asked, sitting up as Elsa placed the tray across her lap.

"I did," Elsa beamed with pride. "Although even I wouldn't have eaten my first try at that."

Anna held up a slightly blackened finger of toast. "The toast might just be a little bit slightly overdone."

Anna dipped the toast in her egg anyway, and took a tentative bite. Then another. She swallowed loudly, then reached for the orange juice.

Elsa hid her face behind her hands, barely daring to peek out from behind her fingers. "It's terrible, isn't it?"

"No, no its—okay, yeah, a little bit. But I mean it's not bad for your first try and I love that you tried, and it's really awesome that you'd do that for me and okay maybe that's waaay too much sugar talking now but why do this for me? Why today?"

"Because I'm not the Queen."

It was most unfortunate Elsa had spoken just after Anna had taken a big gulp of the orange juice, because it now meant that Elsa's duvet was covered with that same juice. Elsa clenched her fists in frustration but said nothing. This was going to be _Anna's_ day. She wasn't going to ruin it by getting mad at her sister. Not so early in the day anyway.

"Am I still dreaming?" Anna asked the air, pinching her cheek.

"It's just for today," Elsa explained, moving closer to the bed. "I decided that with everything going so well that I had to do something special just for you. For _you_ , Anna. So today I'm not the Queen, I'm just your big sister—and I'm going to try to be the best sister you've ever had."

"You're the _only_ sister I've ever had," Anna stuck out her tongue.

"Very funny. But I mean it. No Queen stuff—as you like to call it—today. I know how badly you wanted this when we were younger, so today, it's just you and me. I'm here for you, for a whole day. No distractions. No interruptions. Just you and me."

"Kristoff might be here in the afternoon."

"Might?" Elsa was skeptical, although she knew Kristoff kept his word, he didn't often keep a reliable schedule.

"Okay, will. I asked him. I didn't know you were going to do this," Anna leaned half out of the bed to hug Elsa, nearly spilling everything from the tray. She barely caught the glass of orange juice with her left hand. "And it's amazing. I–I'm sure he'll understand if I ask him to wait another day."

Elsa heard the trepidation in her sister's voice. As if she was afraid of seeming ungrateful. Afraid that this amazing gift might be taken from her. Elsa understood that fear all too well, but at least in this case she could do something about it.

"I'll understand if you want me to leave this afternoon instead," Elsa spoke softly, taking Anna's hand when she'd found a safer place to put the orange juice. "I know how much Kristoff means to you, at least, I think I have a good idea of it."

"Why can't I have both of you?" Anna asked with a devilish wink. Elsa blushed. She knew exactly what her sister was talking about.

It took Elsa a few seconds to come up with a reply to that, but when she did it was totally worth it.

"Because it's immoral," Elsa answered with a wink of her own. "And I don't like sharing."

Anna nearly choked on her toast.

The next five minutes were spent in relative silence, Anna attempting to enjoy the dubious merits of her sister's attempts at cooking. She had put the effort in to do this, and for Elsa to take the initiative with something like this—Anna knew it had to be important to her. So she ate, all the while quietly promising herself that she'd show Elsa how to do this properly one day. Not burning the toast would be step one. Well, the orange juice probably hadn't been Elsa's fault—Kjellson's kids could be right terrors sometimes.

That was it, Anna realised. The first thing she could do today. Elsa had said it was her day after all. But only after they'd studied the laws of succession would Anna admit to her sister why they were there.

"You said it was a day just for me, right?"

"Absolutely Anna."

"Then we're going to the library."

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise. That was the last place she'd expected Anna to go. There had to be something else going on. Was she worried about something? Had she and Kristoff—no, it was far too soon. Was Anna trying to accommodate Elsa on her own special day? That was when Elsa noticed the smirk on her sister's lips.

"You can braid my hair if you want," Anna called out, rifling through the wardrobe—she'd taken the time to 'share' a few items of clothing with her sister. "But I'm still not telling you why."

"Ah, our Princess sinister has a mysterious streak," Elsa affected a slight accent as she spoke. Anna laughed happily, extracting a dress from the wardrobe. "And an apparent fondness for her sister's clothing."

"You never wear it," Anna accused her sister. "Some of these dresses deserve a second chance. Except that pink—thing—in there."

"I tried to get rid of it once," Elsa whispered, melodramatically looking left and right. "But it came back. Cleaner. And pinker."

"No."

"So I tried again. This time it came back with _pleats_."

"That can't be true, can it?" Anna asked, taking a look inside the wardrobe.

"The third time it came back with lace. And tulle. And chiffon."

Anna looked at her sister skeptically. This sounded more like one of her own stories. She scratched her head absently. It _was_ one of her stories. The one about the haunted necklace. Elsa had just changed it to a dress. Anna smiled. That was good for Elsa.

"You almost had me there," Anna admitted, grinning. "But the chiffon was too much. Also, I think you're supposed to tell stories like that around a camp-fire. That's how it's done in the books."

"Speaking of books…"

"Not so fast there Elsa. You have to braid my hair first," Anna sat in front of her sister, passing her the brush and the ribbons. She knew it was going to take a little while to get all those curls out. At least this morning she could have Elsa do it instead of Gerda. It would be a nice change. And it was. Elsa's touch was so soft, so delicate, so—sensuous, Anna finally admitted to herself. She couldn't help having some feelings for Elsa, even after—or had it been before?

It was what it was. Anna felt a sort of childish infatuation for her sister. More admiration and gratefulness than any kind of lust. Elsa had been returned to her, and she'd opened up at long last and while they'd paid a high price for that openness Anna wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. But Anna knew how Elsa saw it too—at least, she thought she had a good idea of how her sister saw her. It was all because of what they'd shared, what they'd experienced together. Surviving Hans's betrayal and his actions on the ice had been a traumatic experience in many ways. The sisters had helped each other through it. But to Elsa it was more, because Anna knew with absolute certainty—and no small amount of sadness—that no one else had ever supported Elsa that way. It only made sense she would have feelings for Anna.

What didn't make sense was that sometimes Anna wanted to reciprocate those feelings. Not just the sisterly love she always showed, but something a little… more. She knew exactly where she stood with Kristoff. She knew what she wanted, where her desires lay. But thinking about Elsa just left her confused. It would be nice if Elsa fell for one of the men she now knew, but Anna felt a strange pang of jealousy at the thought of Hank or Søren—or anyone else for that matter—getting her sister's attention.

"So, why _do_ you want to go to the library?"

Anna turned, suddenly realizing how lost in thought she'd been. That was really strange for her. Unless she'd just been speaking exactly what was on her mind. Anna blushed furiously at the thought, and Elsa looked at her strangely.

"Is everything okay Anna?"

"I was just thinking about you," honest enough. "And me. Together."

Damn.

Elsa stopped moving. That was not a good sign. Anna began speaking rapidly. "I mean, not like that—but kinda like that—it was weird and I was hoping you'd fall for someone and then I thought I'd be jealous and I asked why I'd be jealous and then… umm, yeah, I got kinda confused and now I'm rambling but I don't know what to say when you freeze like th—wrong words, wrong words, sorry, I—"

Placing a hand against Anna's arm, Elsa spoke. "It's alright Anna. I understand. Well, I don't understand my feelings about it properly, but I understand why you'd be just as confused."

There was a long pause, Anna gathered her thoughts while Elsa continued trying to ascertain why her sister wanted to spend the morning in the library.

"So, again, why the library?"

"I need to study something about our old laws. The laws of succession and inheritance."

Anna saw the flash of recognition on her sister's face. She knew. Elsa _knew_. Well, she had to be sharp to be Queen after all. "You said as soon as I had a child, I'd be Queen. I'm going to show you how wrong you are."

"Why?"

"Because despite what you think of yourself, you _deserve_ to be the Queen."

"Why are you so _nice_ to me?" Elsa shook her hands in the air, little spirals of frost forming around them. "You know I don't deserve any of this. I don't even deserve _you_. This is meant to be your day and you're going spend it on… on…"

Elsa couldn't finish. It was impossible. Anna saw the look in her eyes, the unshed tears she was always hiding.

"You don't get it, do you?" Anna knelt down to look her sister in her pale blue eyes. "Knowing you makes me feel alive. Seeing you happy makes me happy. Seeing you in pain hurts me. Seeing you cry makes we want to bundle you up in a big warm hug. But mostly I want to see you be happy. I mean really, properly happy. Like Sven finding a full sack of carrots happy. Olaf happy."

"Why?"

"Because you had a crappy childhood, okay. So did I. But it wasn't your fault. Mama and Papa really tried their best," Anna clenched her fist in repressed anger. "But they didn't know anything about your magic. You didn't know anything about it. They didn't even think about trying to study it—actually, I can't believe you didn't think of that to be honest. I get it, you were afraid, but you must have known something about your powers, right?"

Anna saw the look on her sister's face. The fear, the isolation, the sheer helplessness. This was probably exactly the wrong thing to be talking about right now, but Anna couldn't think of anything else to say. Except…

"Just remember, no matter what, I'll always love you Elsa."

Elsa leaned forward, reaching out to hug her sister. "You'll never know how much that really means to me Anna. And I love you too, with all of my broken little heart."

* * *

"Princess Anna," Kai greeted the sisters as they entered the library. He bowed gently upon seeing the Queen. "Queen Elsa. Such a pleasure to see both of you here this morning. I was just tidying up after last night—Bishop Gudbrand left this for you."

Elsa took the proffered note. Anna watched as she unfolded it, hands trembling. Was she afraid of the Bishop? Was this what the shouting had been about yesterday afternoon. The reason Elsa couldn't sleep. The Queen let out a surprised gasp, nearly dropping the note. Anna leaned over to try and get a better look. She couldn't read the note, but she saw what had made her sister gasp like that.

It was a small silver chain, and on the end of that chain was a cross. Such a simple symbol. Anna didn't quite understand, but she reached down to pick up the necklace, intending to help Elsa put it on. She was forgetting the fact she would need two hands to open the clasp and join the ends properly. She felt Elsa lay a hand gently on her arm before she could move the necklace any further.

"Thank you Anna, but you might not be so handy at this," Elsa smiled, taking the necklace, then fixing it at the back of her neck with surprising deftness.

"Really?" Anna asked, not sure if the joke had been deliberate.

"I thought I was supposed to be giving you a _hand,_ looking through these books."

Definitely deliberate. Elsa was going to be in for it later. Anna attempted to rub her hands together in glee, then settled for gently itching at her bandage. There was some research she needed to continue when Elsa was elsewhere. Research Kai had been quietly helping her with. Research about prosthetics, and specific kinds of injuries. Like the kind of injury her sister suffered from. Anna had seen the way both Olaf and Marshmallow moved. She had seen the complexity of Elsa's icy creations. The chandelier in the ice palace was a brilliant example. If she could somehow convince—at that point Anna realized she already had the power. She gave it to me this morning, Anna smiled at the thought. But I'm going to need a few more books.

Elsa was now poring over a large tome that contained the laws of succession for Arendelle, as well as the list of who had inherited the throne in the past, and why. Anna never saw her tuck the Bishop's note down the side of her chair, just out of sight. Nor would she ever realize what it meant. But Elsa did. It meant a second chance. It had said only this: _An act of contrition, such that you may be safe while you fight the darkness around you._


	23. Brighter than the Sun

Anna's plan had been brilliant. Spectacularly brilliant by her standards. That was why she was apologizing profusely as Elsa lay in a tangled heap on the icy courtyard. It was also why Elsa's icy chair lay in ruins. Finally, it was the reason Anna was currently being crushed by her sister. Anna sighed, gently rolling her sister onto the ice. It might have been a good plan if she'd remembered a few things about moving on the ice. Or to watch where she was going when she showed off by skating backwards—right into Elsa, the bench, and finally the fountain. Well, they'd bounced off the fountain, but Elsa's chair was ruined by the impact.

"Wait," Anna called out, seeing Elsa starting to create a new chair. "Please, there's something I want to try."

Elsa let the new chair fade, then used her arms to prop herself up in a sitting position. "What is it Anna?"

"Well, really, it's something you should try. Should have tried a long time ago."

"Why are you being so cryptic all of a sudden?"

Anna ignored the question. She was tracing out two small rectangles on the ice. "Elsa, can you make like a line or a marker or something. These boxes, same size."

"I have no idea what you're going for here," Elsa replied evenly, using her magic to trace dark lines in the ice.

"Right, and over here, big and shiny, like a mirror—you can make mirrors, right?"

"Of ice, yes—wait, why do we need a mirror?"

"Because of something I need to show you. There's something you really need to do—but I know you can't do it alone, so I'm helping you out."

"This is meant to be _your_ day Anna, why aren't you spending it doing things _you_ like?"

"This _is_ something I like, you dummy. Why else would I be doing it?" Anna enjoyed watching her sister's face at that one. Seeing the pieces fall into place in Elsa's mind like a perfect little puzzle. She would never suspect Anna of having ulterior motives. That's why Anna knew this little scheme would work. Elsa finally smiled, looking a little sad.

"Anyway, two shapes, like this," Anna quickly sketched a tall triangle in mid-air. She added a U shape to the top of it. "And one of those on top."

"A-frames?" Elsa asked, skeptical. "How big?"

"About shoulder height," Anna held her hand in front of her right shoulder, palm down. "About shoulder width apart."

Anna saw something flash behind Elsa's eyes. When she spoke she sounded exasperated. "No, Anna. I can't do it. It's impossible. I already told you I tried using my magic for that. It just won't work. You saw how badly it went last time."

"So you ended up on the floor, so what?" Anna looked intently at her sister. "You have to try. You have to keep trying. Please."

"No."

Elsa was stubborn sometimes, Anna knew that. Sometimes she seemed to be so set in her ways it was like talking to a wall—or a locked door. Anna also knew how much her sister needed something like this. That's why she was willing to spend until lunch time trying to get it right. Longer, in fact, if need be. She just needed a way to convince Elsa it would work. To show her sister it was possible. But how—it was like playing a really hard game. How do you get someone to play a game like that? Anna questioned herself. You show them how it works!

"It's okay Elsa," Anna took a deep breath. "You don't have to; but— _but_ —if you don't, you have to do it for me."

Elsa gave her sister a quizzical look. Anna stared back evenly.

"I mean, what I was gonna do for you—get you to do I mean—you gotta do it for me instead. You'll be using your magic. On me. It'll be fine."

"Are you sure about this?" Elsa sounded anything but sure to Anna, although she seemed willing to try out this crazy plan.

Anna stood directly in front of Elsa. "Can you make some snow around me—I'm about to fall over a lot."

"Then you probably shouldn't be doing this. Don't you remember what the physician said?"

"Of course I do—but this is more important," large piles of snow covered the ground around Anna. "Thanks."

Anna took her older sister's right hand, then gently guided it to her left thigh. She did the same for Elsa's left hand, placing it upon her right thigh. She looked Elsa in the eye, took a breath, then asked her sister to do something she knew she wouldn't like.

"Freeze my legs."

"No!"

"Elsa, I _have_ to show you this—you won't believe it's possible otherwise. Just… a little ice, so I can't move them."

"No. I don't want to hurt you."

Anna could see the tears building behind Elsa's eyes. She could tell Elsa didn't want to let her down, but she saw the greater fear behind those tears. Elsa was still terrified of hurting her. "It's okay Elsa. I won't let you hurt me. This is _my_ choice. Just… do it like you froze my arm."

"I–I can't."

Snow fell over the courtyard before Anna saw the tears. She knelt down to wrap her sister in the warmest hug she could deliver. She felt Elsa shiver against her. Maybe she'd been going about this all wrong. Maybe she needed to explain her motive first, then her plan of action. Well, I can still salvage this, Anna smiled brightly. I'll just tell her what I wanted.

"Why would you ask me to do something like that?" Elsa asked a few minutes later, clearing most of the snowfall.

"Because you're not the only one who can use a library, okay."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means—okay, fine. I've been asking Kai for help to look up stuff about anatomy. Ever since I mentioned your la—"

"Don't say it," Elsa held up a warning finger, almost falling over as she did so.

"—anyway, I started to wonder about anatomy and prosthetics. Hey, did you know this German guy in the 1500's had a fake arm with movable fingers? It could hold a pen, or a sword, or like whatever and it was totally awesome and I want one like that and where was I—oh, yeah, studying anatomy and stuff, and learning about muscles and tendons and bones and it was really fascinating and you look a little pale are you okay?"

Elsa nodded shakily.

"So I kept reading, and I read a few books about magic—and they're really, really confusing and none of them really help with ice powers and—yeah, anyway I thought about how you were trying to stand with your magic before, and you keep saying it's impossible—and don't interrupt it's rude—but it's not and I know how to make it work but you probably won't like it because it's going to look ridiculous, and there might be touching involved—but I think you might like that too much—and anyway Kai showed me some really great books and he's great at researching things and I guess you already knew that, but I swear I'd've been stuck in that room for weeks if it wasn't for him.

"Oh, oh, and he showed me some cool stuff about engineering and I didn't really understand a lot of it, but then he showed me be some more anatomy stuff and it made sense because it was how the body moves and it's really, really simple and I want to see you move again but I don't know if your magic will work but I want you try, okay? Try it for me?"

"Anna," Elsa let out a heavy sigh, dragging her legs closer and building a backrest from ice. "Please… slow down."

"Wait, what?" Anna cocked her head, looking at her sister. "Am I talking too fast or something?"

"You are," Elsa nodded, smiling sadly. "But I heard that last part. I'm sorry, but I don't want to try."

"Why. What are you so afraid of?" Anna asked in all seriousness, forgetting what had happened last time she asked that question.

Anna could only watch helplessly as Elsa hugged her arms, bowing her head. What could be so bad about trying to stand on her own two feet again. What was so scary that Elsa couldn't even try to do that. Was it because they were in the courtyard?

"Wait, are you afraid someone might see you falling over? Is that it?"

"Yes—No. I don't _know!_ "

Sitting down in front of her sister, Anna placed her hand on Elsa's shoulder and bowed her head. Their foreheads were nearly touching, but neither sister looked up. Anna didn't want to see the pain in Elsa's eyes. She didn't want Elsa to see the disappointment in hers.

"It's okay if you don't want to try today," Anna spoke softly, but she couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice. "But I'm not giving up on this, okay? I'm not giving up on you."

Anna felt her sister drag her closer, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She could feel Elsa's hair brushing against her cheek. She could hear the slight hitch in her breath. She could feel the silent tears that shook her sister's body. She could hear Elsa mumble something. It wasn't really words. Elsa coughed and tried again.

"I don't deserve you."

Hatching a very different plan, Anna scooped up a handful of snow. Her gaze tracked left and right to make sure the courtyard was clear. Then she dropped the snow down the back of Elsa's dress. The shock was enough to make her sister stop traveling down that dark path. It was also more than enough reason for Elsa to push her away—just to arm's length.

"You!" Elsa held out an accusatory finger. "You… you…"

"I what?" Anna asked innocently, scooting a little further from her sister. She winked and gave Elsa an impish grin. "Did I do something… wrong?"

"You'll pay for that," Elsa got out finally.

"Really?" Anna called out over her shoulder, running for the nearest bench to use as cover. "What makes you so sure?"

The red haired Princess of Arendelle regretted asking that a moment later when a foot of snow landed on top of her. Sometimes it paid to remember little things—like the fact Elsa didn't need to see to be able to use her magic. Or that a foot of snow was really quite heavy when it hit you all at once. Anna smiled, a little chagrined, sitting up in the snow.

"You know that's unfair. I can't do magic like that."

"Then throw something—it's not like I can run away."

So Anna did just that, taking her sister's advice and starting to pelt her with snowballs. Elsa built a little wall of snow around herself, blocking some of the icy barrage. Anna tried to outflank her sister, but found that the wall went all the way around. And that Elsa could throw homing snowballs. Another unfair advantage. Especially considering she could throw two snowballs for every one Anna made. But the younger of the sisters had her own advantages, chief among them that she was both mobile, and highly unpredictable.

That was why her sneak attack worked. Creeping up from behind her sister, then vaulting the little wall, she tackled Elsa. Both of them crashed through the far wall, snow flying everywhere. Elsa laughed in delight, and Anna exulted in the sound. How long had it been since she'd last heard her sister make a sound that pure and joyous? Lying in the snow, her arm around Elsa's shoulders, Anna smiled while they both watched the clouds overhead. There weren't many, but it was enough to keep the sky interesting.

"And don't think you've got out of that either," Anna said, after waiting what felt like hours.

"Out of what?" Elsa asked, turning to look at her sister.

"You know, learning to stand up again. I _know_ there's a way Elsa. There has to be. I'm not giving up on this."

"And if there isn't a way?"

"There is," Anna spoke firmly, her conviction surprising even her. Elsa said nothing. If Anna was sure, she was sure.

* * *

On the outskirts of town Justicar Kristoffersen had found something very disturbing. Ansa had brought it to his attention. It wasn't related to the thefts they were currently investigating, but it was related to another investigation—more a search, of sorts—being managed by Bishop Gudbrand. He had mentioned something similar during the first council meeting. Kristoffersen remembered the Queen's face at hearing that revelation. The way she had not quite casually enough explained she hadn't been attacked because her image in public kept her safe. But this… this was a bad sign for everyone. Gerhardt was right in suggesting the Queen needed a bodyguard. Upon seeing this Justicar Kristoffersen was going to insist on it next time he saw the Queen.

He turned to look back within the shed. Logs and tinder, perfectly reasonable, even this time of year. It was often easier to stock up on firewood in the summer months after all. But that wasn't the suspicious part. It was the single large log. The rope. The wig, long and powdered, and completely unmistakeable for what it was meant to be. The Justicar let out the breath he had been holding. There were three likely scenarios here.

One: Bishop Gudbrand was wrong. He suspected the troublemakers who'd had the effigy had already fled Arendelle. To return to the same place was stupid, but Justicar Kristoffersen had met criminals with a surprising lack of common sense before. That was often what caused them to get caught in the first place.

Two: The Bishop could have been lying. Kristoffersen highly doubted that. There was nary an impure or impolite bone in the Bishop's entire body. For him to lie about—No, Kristoffersen decided quickly, he wouldn't lie. The man can't lie. He's just like that. He can try and hide it from us all he wants, but he's probably the most honest man on the whole damn council. Him and Gerhardt.

Three: The final theory deeply concerned Justicar Kristoffersen. Because if it was true, then it meant the unrest was spreading. It meant there were people who were scared enough of the Queen's power to wish for her death. Or, as the Bishop had said, they might be misguided, thinking of the Queen as the embodiment of evil. That they were willing to go to such lengths to try and hide their activities was a concern in and of itself. That they were desperate enough to plan something like this in the first place was the real threat.

"Find out who owns this land," Kristoffersen turned to Ansa, the young woman standing slightly behind him. "Find out who has access to that shed. Bring the others in, we're going to need their talents."

"Sir," Ansa made no special movement, just answered her superior and continued investigating the door and the latch. A strange thought was forming at the back of her mind. She studied the marks on the latch, and they seemed utterly normal. A few scratches here and there, but the door probably banged in the wind. It would scrape slightly when the key was turned anyway. It was something else. Something foreign. Justicar Kristoffersen might well have already thought of it, but Ansa spoke anyway. It would be better to learn he had already thought of it than to deny the possibility he hadn't.

"Sir, what if whoever's doing this is not from Arendelle?"

Kristoffersen stopped mid-stride. Why hadn't he thought of that? Because he'd been following the same line of thinking as Gudbrand, probably. Kristoffersen admonished himself. Just because the good Bishop thought this was a domestic—or vaguely religious—issue did not mean it actually was. That added another wrinkle. Just who had enough dislike for Arendelle to try something like this, to try and topple their Queen? Or were they only and specifically targeting Queen Elsa herself? Justicar Kristoffersen cursed inwardly. There were no good answers.


	24. Light of my Life

"You're insane," Elsa admonished her sister, giggling as she spoke. "It's just—"

"What?" Anna asked innocently, still tickling her sister's ribs. "Fair?"

"Just because I touched you?"

"And the rest. You still haven't told me why I should stop."

"I already did."

"Oh come on, no one's going to see us here."

"Someone might hear us," Elsa hissed.

Anna kept tickling her sister for another few seconds. Then, still pinning her sister to the floor, sitting across her legs, the red haired princess launched into a long list of things they could do with anyone they caught eavesdropping. Most of it involved some surprisingly creative violence, and large persian rugs. Elsa could hardly believe her sister would entertain such thoughts.

"…and then we drop the carpet off a bridge," Anna concluded, a massive grin making her face glow. Elsa's jaw dropped.

"An-na," Elsa took a moment to collect her thoughts before suddenly dragging her sister down on top of her. "You cannot be serious."

"Of course I'm not—do you know how heavy a body wrapped up in that kind of carpet would be?"

"You are… you're…"

"A very bad girl?" Anna smiled, finally rolling away from Elsa. "Are you going to punish me?"

The younger of Arendelle's royal siblings hid under a large oaken table. Elsa turned her head sideways to see her clinging to the table.

"I should, but I can't," Elsa laughed, reaching out for her sister. "Okay, I admit it. That _was_ fun."

"See, I told you I'd win. I'm never wrong—ow!" Anna had just been about to rise in triumph when her head smacked against the bottom of the table. She stared up at the table, a look of utter betrayal crossing her features. "Who put that there?"

"I have no idea," Elsa lied. "But we're going to need a large rug."

Anna laughed. Elsa looked around the council chamber. Despite her fears there was only a tiny amount of snow dusting the table and chairs, and built up in the corners of the room. Anna had been right, their little 'war' had hurt no one. It had also been highly entertaining, spanning nearly half of the second floor of the castle. Kai and Gerda were mysteriously absent from the whole floor during the entire affair. Thinking of people who were absent…

"Didn't you say Kristoff would be here about now?"

"He should be. Hopefully staying in the library hasn't bored him too much."

"Wait, you made him stay in the library?"

"So?" Anna sounded almost petulant. "It's my castle too."

"No, no, not that. I meant to ask if you had anything planed to entertain him while he was there?"

"Oh, I just thought he could read the books or something."

Slowly working herself into a sitting position, Elsa looked skeptically at her sister.

"I really didn't have time to plan anything else, okay?" Anna quickly explained. "I figured he'd be somewhere safe, easy to find, and not too bored."

"You should go to him," Elsa smiled warmly. "You both deserve a little time together. You've already spent far too much of your day on me."

"But I don't wanna stop spending time with you, Elsa. Today has been like totally awesome, and I've got so many ideas and just wait until later I've got something amazing and really, really special we can do together and—Elsa?"

"Kristoff is your guest," Elsa explained patiently. "You invited him here. As host, it is your duty to entertain him for an appropriate length of time to make his visit worthwhile."

"I thought you said you weren't going to do anything Queen-y today?"

"Just think of it as some friendly advice," Elsa made a shooing gesture. "Now go. Have fun with someone that isn't me."

As Anna finally left, Elsa added silently: Have fun with someone that actually deserves you.

Conjuring a chair of ice, Elsa began to think about what she could do while her sister was preoccupied with Kristoff. A great many things came to mind. Most of them impractical due to time constraints. She absently fingered the silver cross that now hung around her neck. It had been a long time since she'd prayed for anything. Said a real, truthful prayer. After hurting Anna she had been afraid of invoking the wrath of the Divine. As her powers grew the fear changed to one of being ignored. Her prayers had stopped soon afterwards. Then, after the death of their parents, it felt as if the Divine had simply abandoned her.

She had, quite simply, lost her faith in the Divine. He had never done anything for her. Nothing Elsa could notice. He had not saved Anna. He had not taken her powers away. And no matter how much she had pleaded with him after the storm, he had not brought her parents back. If the Divine wanted to abandon her, fine. She could turn away just as easily. But she had not considered that he might still be watching. That he might take pity on her in her darkest moment. To give life to Olaf.

Elsa kept running Bishop Gudbrand's theory through her mind. There was most definitely an element of truth in there. The problem was, she wasn't sure if that same truth applied to Marshmallow. She'd created that monster quite deliberately. It had been her powers, and only her powers. But now another thought occurred to her. The Divine was not the only one that could give life to certain creatures. Elsa shuddered. What if Marshmallow isn't mine? What if I didn't animate him? That would make him a… Thoughts crashed into each other in Elsa's head, ending with one she fervently prayed was untrue. That means I summoned a _demon_.

I have to find the Bishop. Elsa was already panicking. This is bad. Very, very bad. Elsa sped through the castle, intending to find the Bishop somewhere in town. The Bishop's reaction didn't matter this time. If Marshmallow was a demon, then he wouldn't have been killed. Could not have been killed by the soldiers assaulting her palace. Which meant Elsa would need help stopping him. He would have sought out whoever summoned him, or possibly gone on a destructive rampage. Elsa blinked, stopping in the middle of the grand hall. It had been more than two weeks. Surely she would have heard _something_ if that theory was true.

If that theory was untrue however, it meant another one was not. Namely, the fact Elsa could create life. No one should have that power, Elsa thought sadly. Especially not me. Elsa turned her chair around, heading deeper into the castle. She had no idea who to talk to. She didn't even know if she really wanted to talk about what she'd just discovered. What she really wanted was someone to tell her everything was going to be alright. The problem was that that someone was currently in the library, talking with her boyfriend.

* * *

"That really is a lot of books," Kristoff's gaze took in the whole library as Anna entered. He was sitting at a reading desk with single book in front of him. "And there's not many with pictures."

"Sorry," Anna apologized, wincing slightly. "I just didn't have a lot of time to think this through because today's been totally awesome and I've been having fun all over the castle with Elsa and she made me breakfast in bed and it was kinda terrible but it's amazing because she said today was all about me and—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Kristoff held up his hands and made a gentle halting gesture. "You know when you're talking that fast I can't understand everything."

"Oh, yeah. I just got so excited. Anyway, it all started when Elsa made me breakfast in bed—but she can't really cook—but it was nice because she made it. Then she told me today she wasn't going to be the Queen. Just for today. So there's no titles or anything, it's just us, like sisters. Kind of like what I always wanted. Then we went to the library so I could prove she was wrong about something—because she kept saying if I ever had a baby, and I want one one day, that I'd be the Queen right away—but she was wrong. She would have to abdicate"—Anna worked hard to get the unfamiliar word right—"in favour of my child. And that still wouldn't make me Queen. Unless… unless Elsa died before my baby came of age. But I don't want to be Queen. I'd mess it up so badly."

Kristoff gave the Princess a lop-sided grin. "No you wouldn't. You can do anything if you just set your mind to it. You managed to drag me up the north mountain on some fool's errand after all. You managed to stop an eternal winter. You even managed to save Elsa's life. Oh, and you knocked out a wolf with my lute, let's not forget that."

Anna giggled, her hand over her mouth. She had honestly forgotten about the lute. "You… thank you."

Kristoff was completely unprepared for Anna to lean over and kiss him firmly on the lips. She pulled away after a few delicious seconds.

"Umm… you're welcome?" Kristoff tried to collect his thoughts. Anna laughed lightly, then sat on the edge of the desk. She said nothing, just held his gaze for several long seconds. There were things they both wanted to do. To each other. With each other. Although now was not the time, both of them could see the desire burning behind the other's eyes. One day. One day soon they promised themselves.

"So Princess feistypants, can I ask about what appears to have been a blizzard on the second floor?"

"We had a snowball war!" Anna nearly leapt off the desk with excitement. "I won."

"And how many times did you change the rules?"

"There are no rules in a real snowball war," Anna's eyes darted left and right. "And Elsa cheats anyway. She can throw homing snowballs and make the floor all slippery with ice and then there was the door she filled with snow and… and… well I managed to trap her in there, and then it was time to storm the council chamber. Hand to hand combat with snowballs."

"You said you won?" Kristoff queried, teasing. "Wait, are you telling me you beat up your disabled sister?"

"No. I won fair and square. Although Elsa's _chair_ might have had a minor accident that let me properly pin her and when I was tickling her… oh, I love the way she laughs when she's happy, Kristoff. I'd do anything to hear that—is that weird?"

"Nah," Kristoff brushed it off. "Can't be any weirder than talking with Sven."

Anna smiled. "So Elsa said I could spend the afternoon with you if I really wanted. I know she wanted to spend all of today with me, but she didn't know we made plans. Wait, can we even call them plans?—Anyway, I mean, I'd really, really like to spend more time with you—but then Elsa gave me a whole day to just have her as well. And I've got no idea what I'm doing with either of you and I just want to not be confused about everything and what about her la—or your—wait, what am I saying?"

"You're rambling again feistypants. Just take a deep breath."

"Okay, okay," Anna spread her hands, taking a deep breath as advised. "I like you. I like her. I mean, not exactly in the same way, but—umm, yeah. I really don't know who I should be spending the afternoon with."

"Elsa," Kristoff said simply. "I told you, I'd never make you choose between her or me. I meant it."

"I love you," Anna wrapped her arm around Kristoff's shoulders. "I really do, my valiant and pungent reindeer king."

"If you really did, you'd stop calling me that. Princess feistypants" Kristoff teased good-naturedly.

"Like you're any better," Anna teased him right back, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Another day?"

"Sure. You know how to find me."

"Not really."

"You'll figure it out," Kristoff winked, placing a scrap of paper on the table as he left.

Anna looked at the scrap, torn from the edge of the top sheet of paper on the reading table. The ink splotches and messy handwriting were even worse than her own attempts at writing by hand. She wouldn't even begin to consider calligraphy—unless it was Elsa doing it. The note gave directions to a building somewhere in town. Strykejern Hus. She could find that later. Right now it was time to find Elsa again.

* * *

Elsa was in her room, concentrating on not icing everything over. To have discovered she had the power to give life to her icy creations was quite a shock. She wanted to make sure it was true—but she was afraid of the answer. To use the breath of life just to confirm it was truly hers seemed incredibly wasteful. It would mean another snowman. Who might be like Olaf. Or who might be like Marshmallow. And if she couldn't use the breath of life—well, that just raised even more questions. Questions she didn't want answers to. Questions she didn't even want to ask.

The polite knock at her door lifted Elsa from her dark reverie. "Your majesty, are you feeling alright?"

It was Kai. Elsa knew his voice. Slowly, carefully, she opened the door. Kai stood there attentively, hands clasped behind his back, the perfect picture of a proper royal servant. Elsa briefly considered all the ways in which she could answer the question he had just asked. She settled on the truth. Well, most of it.

"I'm not alright Kai. I keep thinking about what I left on the north mountain."

"Your palace, Queen Elsa?"

"No, Kai. Something _else_."

"You have not mentioned anything before. Why is it suddenly so important—is it dangerous?"

"In a way. You know of Olaf, how he came to be?"

"I will not pretend to know how, your majesty. Although I had assumed it had something to do with your powers. That is all I will say on the matter."

"Well, what I left on the north mountain—let's just say Olaf has a brother, of sorts. Something of a brute. Marshma—he was meant to protect me. Somehow those Weaseltown goons got past him. I don't think he survived the siege."

"I am honestly not sure what to make of that story, your majesty. Have you considered talking with the Bishop?"

"No. I mean, maybe I should. Last time we talked we talked about Olaf. I'll be the first to admit that neither of us handled that particularly well. He scared me enough to make angry, Kai. I couldn't help. I know my magic scared him. I still hope he changed his mind because I told him the honest truth, not because I scared him into doing so."

"Bishop Gudbrand is a good man," Kai defended. "You should really talk with him about this, I really don't know what you're trying to ask. Although I do get the feeling it's vaguely spiritual. Perhaps something on the nature of the soul, and you fear for your creation—creations?"

"I don't really know what I'm asking either Kai. Maybe I just want to make sure I'm not a monster."

Kai squinted, looking down at Elsa's chest. Elsa suddenly felt very self-conscious. Kai held out a silver cross on a knotted cord from beneath his shirt. "You wear a crucifix too?"

"It's a—recent development," Elsa admitted. Kai smiled, once more hiding his cross under his shirt.

"Whatever you may have done, you are not a monster. That you could think such a thing of yourself is disturbing, but it shows that no matter what, you are able to recognize your true nature. If you feel you have something to atone for, Queen Elsa, then I should say your recent actions make for a true act of contrition. I have seen how deeply you care for your sister—and I recall those conversations we had long ago. As I once said, she could never hate you—that was your own fear. Nothing else."

Elsa smiled, a little awkward. Kai was right. It had been a very time long since they'd last had a talk like this. It had been—Elsa thought back, trying to remember when it had been. A year, roughly, since her parents had died. That was the last time she had really talked to anyone. Actually held a proper conversation, not just perfunctory greetings or trying prepare for the eventual pressures of ruling a kingdom. She'd kept to herself for so long. Shut everyone out. It was like she'd slammed doors in all of their faces. But here was Kai, and after metaphorically knocking, that door had been opened again and she'd been greeted with open arms. She still didn't understand how people could be so forgiving, it made her feel quite melancholy.

"I should find Anna," Elsa smiled softly. "Thank you for talking with me Kai."

"You are most welcome, your majesty. Also, I do believe Princess Anna is most likely searching for you now as well. I witnessed master Bjorgman leaving not long ago."

" _There_ you are!" Anna's voice echoed down the second floor hallway. "I've been all over the castle looking for you. I should have known you'd be here."

Kai bowed and left as Anna bounded down the hall towards the door.

"I just needed a little time to myself," Elsa looked up at her sister, fear shading her eyes. She was still afraid of how Anna would react to that statement, but she wasn't going to lie. Not anymore. At least, not to Anna.

"It's okay Elsa," Anna placed a hand on her sister's shoulder and stared longingly into her bright blue eyes. "I know it's hard for people to keep up with me and to follow my conversations sometimes and lots of other stuff and I'm trying to say something but I lost my train of thought. Hey, how about we spend a couple of days in your ice palace, just you and me?"

"Wait, what?"

"I mean, it might be difficult getting there, but I think you'd still be able to ride a horse—wait, _can_ you ride a horse? Anyway, I'll show you how. Just you and me, all alone for a couple of days. I'm sure Arendelle can survive just two days without you trying to run everything. I mean it's not like the whole place could burn to… the… nevermind. We'll go up there and it'll be just us and it'll be totally amazing and can you imagine it? I'd have you for _two whole days_."

"I–I don't know what I'd do," Elsa finally spoke. "I mean, two days. And what about food, blankets, entertainment and—"

"We can bring the food with us silly. And you seriously think _I_ won't be entertainment enough for you," Anna watched as a blush crept across Elsa's face. "Oh, no. No—naughty. I did _not_ mean it like that. Okay, maybe I did, a little bit. I can't help it. I'm sorry. I know it's mean to tease people like that but… Elsa, I only do it because I love you."

"I know Anna, I know," Elsa smiled up at her sister, reaching out for a hug. "I just don't want to ever force you into doing anything. I mean, if you really wanted to, sure; but if you were only doing it because you were afraid I'd stop loving you or something—I–I–well I wouldn't be able to live with myself and what am I saying. Anna?"

Anna blinked several times, her mind running those words forwards and backwards and in several other directions besides. It took her a little time to process what was actually being said versus the words Elsa had just spoken.

"Okay. Now I'm just really confused."

"Can we–can we just let it go. For now?" Elsa pleaded quietly.

"Okay," Anna nodded. "But is it okay to talk about it later—like probably not today, I mean another day, or in the evening or the bath or something like that. I mean just to make sure you aren't trying to hide from it?"

"Later," Elsa nodded slowly. "Just… later."

"So we've got lots of stuff to talk about later, like how you're gonna choose between Hank or Søren, and lad—okay, I won't say it—and now this too. Oh, but I've got something really special planned for tonight, but we really, really need to get going soon."

"Why do we need to leave?"

"Because I found it in the forest, a long time ago. It was my little secret. Well, sort of. I keep seeing it in my dreams. But they're not like normal dreams, it's like something you can't quite remember—you know, when you try to think of a word and it just won't come to you? Yeah, it's totally like that. Anyway, something else Kai helped with was how to read maps—I figured it would be useful seeing how lost I got last time I went into the forest alone. So I discovered this little marker, and the place is real, and you totally gotta see it Elsa. It's amazing. But at night. It has to be at night."

"What about getting back to the castle?" Elsa was rightly concerned that this plan would see them both out of the castle for the entire night.

"Umm, well, I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just figured we could walk back."

"We probably won't be back until midnight then."

"I'm not afraid, Elsa. Your magic can protect us."

Elsa took Anna's hand in her own. "Just this once then, Princess feistypants. Because you insist."

* * *

In the chapel's anteroom Justicar Hanne Kristoffersen was in deep discussion with Bishop Clarence Gudbrand over what he'd found earlier that day. He outlined his primary theories clearly and concisely; that either the Bishop was wrong, or the corruption was spreading. He also related Ansa's theory about foreign interests. Bishop Gudbrand took this in without saying a word. He barely moved the entire conversation, except to jot notes in his ledger—just as Kristoffersen was doing.

"This is incredibly troubling news, Hanne. Especially in light of what the Queen revealed to me yesterday. I will not say what, but I will say that if men like these ever, _ever_ learned of it, there would be no stopping them. I do not like to consider what fanatics are capable of. Or even some of our more, shall we say, over-zealous believers. It was always a risk, old friend. You know best among us that everyone harboured suspicions about the Queen's troubles all those years. We were well prepared to deal with legal consequences, even some public unrest.

"We were not, however, ready for the religious repercussions that might follow. I myself was not immune to such reactionary thinking when she first revealed the full extent of her powers to me. I am not proud to admit that fact, but I was caught completely off guard. Although I still question how I might have had reacted had I been forewarned. The point is moot now. We quite clearly have much bigger problems. Any one of your theories could be true. Although I cannot see the hand of outside influence in this matter, it would be wise not to discount it. Arendelle is small enough that it has few enemies—as Gerhardt is fond of telling us—but that does not mean our enemies—or their ambitions—are just as small."

"What of the notion of employing a bodyguard for the Queen?"

"I have given her what amounts to a shield of faith, but you are right in suggesting that something a little more tangible would go a long way to solving our problems. Of course, Queen Elsa is unlikely to trust anyone the council chooses simply because she knows Gerhardt will have had a hand in the selection process."

"I had some thoughts about that myself, Clarence," Kristoffersen admitted. "I got the distinct impression that was only one of several reasons she would refuse a council-selected guard. I was racking my brains over it, and the best I could come up with was that the person would not just be a bodyguard, but a protector and facilitator for the Queen to manage her daily life. Much like the batmen some of the army officers have at their disposal."

"That would certainly make sense," Bishop Gudbrand scrawled something in his ledger. "Which means we would have to quietly find these men that are brave, strong, loyal, fiercely protective and absolutely trustworthy. Then we must introduce them to the Queen without her seeing our hand in the matter."

"You don't ask for much, do you Clarence?"

"I ask for the impossible, Hanne," the Bishop shot back, smiling warmly. "Knowing the Divine will provide it for us."


	25. Under the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's one "early" chapter I'm really proud of, and really happy with, both for plot and technical reasons, it has to be this one. It just felt like the culmination of so much effort, and the reviews on FF.net bear that out. I believe this was also the first true "high" point in the story, and inevitably I started comparing anything similar afterwards to it. I think—but I'm not sure—that this was also the point at which certain ideas for my other stories began to really gel.

Elsa looked around dubiously. Last time she'd been in the forest she honestly had not been paying much attention. She'd been too concerned with running away. Now, of course, things were different. The ground was so uneven in places it was making using her wheelchair almost impossible. She'd been forced to make a path of ice smooth enough to ride along. Anna was well ahead of her, rushing between the trees, impatient to reach their final destination. All Elsa could see of her sister was her fiery orange braids and bouncing satchel—into which she'd crammed several things Elsa had not quite caught sight of. Things that didn't quite fit, and were hanging out the sides.

The dusky light filtering through the trees gave the scene an almost otherworldly cast, Elsa decided at length. It was as if she'd stepped out of reality and into one of the fantasies she'd often read. Maybe even a fairytale. She sighed. Life just wasn't like that. Now even the sound of Anna's footsteps had vanished, replaced by the burbling sound of running water. A river perhaps? The sound continued to build, and the pitch dropped to a deep, basso rumbling. Elsa still had no idea where they were going. She hoped they were close.

There was a clearing ahead, and Elsa could see the rippling surface of a large pool of water. Set back from the edge of the pool, hidden behind the trees, were several _bautasten_ —standing stones. Venturing closer she could make out some runes carved in Elder Futhark. It was too dark to read the runes properly, but not so dark their form was unrecognizable. She turned to face the waterfall, noticing it seemed much darker now.

"Come on," Anna pleaded from behind the waterfall, emerging from what was obviously a narrow cave. "You have to see this."

"It's getting hard to see out here Anna."

"Here, let me help you."

Elsa was about to tell Anna to wait when she saw Anna moving behind her chair, carefully wheeling it into the cave. It was surprisingly large inside. Elsa was also surprised that nothing seemed to be using it for a shelter. They had traveled only a short distance when the roaring of the waterfall receded, and a short distance further on it became nothing more than a quiet whisper.

A new sound emerged in the darkness, and despite the roughness of the terrain she was being driven over, Elsa was intrigued. It was a soft susurration. A whisper on the wind. It sounded like a soft caress of wind against an entire forest. Was this what made the place so special? Elsa squinted, was it getting brighter too? A moment later she knew what it was that made this place special. Magical.

The narrower cave path broached into a large cavern. Water streamed in from above, whispering gently against the rocks as it descended in thin sheets. It fell against the lower pool like rain. Elsa suddenly felt the tension flowing out of her. Perversely she wanted to hold on to it, afraid she was losing something important, afraid she would forget something vital. A hand placed on her shoulder stilled that desire.

That same hand gestured skyward and Elsa felt the beginnings of something new stir within her soul. Above, past the flowing water, she could see the blue-black evening sky, and in that she could see the first stars. She looked again. It was just the first star, reflected off the running water and into the pool below. Suddenly the sky was aglow with pale colours and swirling lights. Bright greens and modest blues. A tiny trail of red snaking down from the heavens only vanish an instant later. Elsa was transfixed. Here was beauty she had often taken for granted from the window of her room. Now she was seeing it in a new light, and she shivered. _This_ was what magic was supposed to feel like.

While Elsa was lost in wonder, Anna had taken the time to strip down to just her undergarments, well aware that the night would eventually be cold, and the fact she didn't want to sleep in wet clothes. That was also why she'd bundled towels and blankets into her satchel. The stones underfoot were smooth but not too slippery. She sat at the edge of the underground pool, kicking her legs in the water, enjoying the way the ripples distorted the reflection of the sky above them. It was something quiet and relaxing—probably the last thing Elsa expected her to do, Anna thought happily. She was always glad to be able to surprise her sister, in a good way, she would often remind herself.

She was also secretly hoping that being in this place would mean Elsa would let her guard down, drop the walls around her heart. There were things Anna wanted to talk to her sister about. Little things, big things, embarrassing things and private things. All of those things at once. But she would have to speak carefully. She didn't want Elsa shutting her out again after all the progress they'd made. She wouldn't, Anna told herself. She just doesn't want to talk now—which could be code for 'I never want to talk about this'. Anna sighed, then turned to look at Elsa.

Her sister sat almost motionless in her icy chair, staring at the sky in wonder. It was as if she hadn't even noticed what Anna was doing. Perhaps she hadn't, Anna considered, realizing that she herself hadn't made much noise getting undressed and dipping her legs in the water. She didn't want to break the spell—Anna could see the smile forming on her sister's lips. Elsa was happy to just _be_ , even for a moment. It was something precious and sacred. Anna couldn't bring herself to interrupt a moment like that.

"What is this place?" Elsa asked at length, breathless. Only then did she look over at Anna. "And what are you doing like that?"

"It's what I saw in my dreams Elsa. Just like I told you. The standing stones outside were what was marked on the map Kai showed me. Oh, and I'm taking a dip in a refreshing cave spring, care to join me?" Anna slipped into the water with that last line, floating gently towards the centre of the spring.

"I–uh," Elsa was at a loss. What could she say? Something trite about getting cold; something about behaviour unbecoming of princesses; or even simply 'no'. There was more to it of course, there always was. But it was obvious now that Anna wanted to bring her here for something special—or to show her something special. She'd succeeded. Then Elsa realized she was probably over-thinking things yet again.

"I'll join you, but you have to help me get there," Elsa remained in her chair, a safe distance from the edge of the spring. It was also clear now why Anna had insisted she wear one of her ice dresses for the occasion. Her sister was developing a surprising streak of duplicity when it came to sharing time with Elsa. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Anna paddled slowly to the edge of the water, pulling herself out of the spring and moving over to collect Elsa. Wrapping her arms around Anna's shoulders for extra stability, Elsa let her sister carry her to the edge of the water, then gently place her in it. It was cold. Not that that ever bothered her, but she was surprised Anna wasn't bothered by it. If she was honest, it was not particularly cold, just… not very warm either.

Elsa marveled at the way she was floating in the water. Her legs drifted of their own accord, driven sideways by the current. She splashed around a little with her hands, managing to direct herself back to the edge of the spring. Anna floated past, hair spreading out beneath her like a tangled halo. Elsa looked to the sky once more. The aurora was still in full force, a display almost as beautiful as the one floating beside her.

The beauty Elsa saw in her sister went well past the merely physical. It was ephemeral, ethereal, and elemental. It was as much a part of Anna as her freckled skin or fiery hair. What Elsa found so beautiful—had always found beautiful—was Anna's capacity for love and forgiveness. Even in her darkest moments, Anna had not stopped loving her. Even after learning Elsa had nearly killed her twice, she forgave her. Elsa sighed softly, blinking back tears. She had nearly taken this wondrous light and snuffed it out for eternity. If that had happened—there was a thought, something they'd never spoken of. Something Elsa had never even thought to ask, despite how much she cared for Anna. Something that she was truly afraid to ask, because if the answer was what she thought it was, she'd have much, much more to atone for.

"Did it hurt?" Elsa asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Did what hurt?" Anna was a little confused. What was her sister getting at here?

"When I–when I froze your heart. Did–did it hurt?"

Anna quietly changed the direction she was moving in, drifting closer to Elsa. As she took Elsa's hand in her own, she squeezed. That act was enough to draw out her sister's unshed tears. But it wasn't an answer. Anna knew the real answer would break her sister's heart. She could remember every excruciating second. What it felt like to literally have ice flowing through her veins. To feel her heart stop. To realize that she, too, was all too mortal. And finally, the pain caused by that blade before the utterly consuming darkness of oblivion. The warmth of thawing had been nearly as painful, but mercifully brief. She still wouldn't have wished that kind of punishment on her worst—and quite possibly only—enemy.

"Anna… did I–did I hurt you?" there was a pleading note to Elsa's voice now. It was tugging at Anna's heartstrings. "Please, just say something… please."

"I–I," Anna began. She didn't know how much to say. She didn't want to hurt Elsa, but she didn't want to lie either. She knew Elsa would take her silence to mean the pain had been unbearable. She'd probably see through any lie she came up with too. Not answering was out of the question—that was Elsa's specialty, not hers. In the end the truth won out.

"It hurt," Anna squeezed her sister's hand as she spoke, drawing strength from their connection. "I won't lie to you Elsa. It really did hurt. But you can't really feel cold and it doesn't bother you, so you'll probably never know what it feels like to be that cold, so very cold Elsa. Please don't beat yourself up over it. Please don't do that. It won't help anyone. Can you just accept that you hurt me, but it was an accident, so I forgive you?"

"Maybe," Elsa squeezed her sister's hand. "One day. I don't know how you can forgive me so easily, I still can't forgive myself."

"Easy," Anna replied smoothly, gently paddling them towards the centre of the spring. "Because I know it's not your fault."

"But it was. If I'd had better control, if I hadn't gotten so emotional it wo—"

"Then I guess this is entirely your fault too," Anna spoke sharply, placing her sister's hand atop her breast. "Because it's something you were afraid of doing, and now suddenly you're doing it."

"I—wait. Something… umm, that's entirely different. _You_ put my hand there."

"…and you could have stopped me doing that at any point, you realize?"

"It's not the same thing."

"Sure it is," Anna replied with unshakeable faith. "It was an accident. If I'd been standing a foot to the right, or two to the left, the ice would have missed me. Did you know that? If I'd had the presence of mind to duck it might have hit me in the head again—and we'd never have had this conversation. You're not the only one to blame for what happened in your ice palace Elsa. I did kind of provoke you. It was me that made you run off into the night after all. If anything, all of the blame for—for everything should be mine. If I hadn't tried to rush into things with Hans and if I'd just maybe let you speak with me alone or even if I hadn't taken your glove, then… all of this might never have happened.

"But if this never happened, then I never got to meet you again. The real you. Things would have gone back to the way they were. I would still think you hated me. I'd think true love was something I could find overnight. Hans might even have won. On the ice I joked that this cost us an arm and a leg. Maybe the price _was_ high. But understand this: I would never trade what we have now for anything in the world. These little moments when we can really see each other for who we are—where no one else can judge us. I'd give up my legs if it meant we could share more of these moments Elsa. That's how precious they are to me—I mean these moments, not my legs and oh no what did I just say?"

"I hate you," Elsa whispered, her voice hollow and empty. "You're everything I could never be."

Anna drew her sister close, trying awkwardly to hug her while floating in the middle of the spring before finally settling on taking her hand once more. The tears flowed freely, and as Anna squeezed, she felt Elsa squeeze back. The connection gave them strength. The aurora dimmed as Elsa's tears ran into the water. Eventually she stilled. Something about the stars above them made everything seem small. Compared to the vastness of the heavens, their problems were as nothing. It made the world alright, just for a moment.

"Can we… talk?" Anna asked after a prolonged silence.

"About what?" Elsa asked cautiously.

"About those things you don't want to talk about. Like lady parts, or choosing your boyfriend, or—"

"Anna!"

"What?" Anna was the picture of innocence. "Like anyone would ever hear us in here."

"It's just… I'm not ready to talk about it Anna."

"Well, if you do pick one of them, eventually they'll want to… and don't you want to know if…?" Anna trailed off suggestively.

"If what?"

"If it still works?"

"If what still wor—Anna. Enough. Please."

"Fine. But we're gonna talk about this one day. Hopefully before you choose one and… hey. Okay, cold cold cold cold. I get it, I get it."

There was a pregnant pause.

"But you know I'm only asking because I'm concerned about you. Y'know, all of you. I mean, I want you to be happy, and I've heard that's a really great way to—cold. Very cold. Oh come on, it's not like you never…" Anna trailed off, finally realizing something important about her sister's experiences in life. "Oh."

Elsa laughed, a little self-deprecating sound. "You're right, you know. Up until very, very recently, I'd never even thought of that. I mean, I knew what it was, what it lead to. But I never thought of it as an option for me. Never thought I'd find someone who'd be able to accept the burden of loving me like that. Then you came along. And—ugh, it's all so messed up. I don't know where I am. What I'm doing. I know I kind of like Hank. Søren too. I like you more, and that just seems wrong and… and… I don't know what to do Anna. I just don't know."

"It's okay to not know things sometimes, Elsa. It means you get to learn something. Like how you really got the white in your hair. Or that your sister has ice powers. Or why your boyfriend always smells like reindeer. Or that your sister loves you like _that_. And that she's never touched… cold. Cold. Elsa, behave. We _need_ to have this talk. Fine just try and freeze me then—but it's either me, here, now; or when we get back I'll find a way to get the physician—"

"Doctor Arnesen," Elsa corrected automatically.

"—okay, I'll get doctor Arensen to give you a lecture and a proper exam. Is that what you want?" There was a slight pause, then: "Cold. Cold cold cold. Okay, _that_ was immature. You remember when you wanted to talk to me about my arm?"

"And you ate all the chocolate?"

"What, I was nervous," Anna turned to face her sister. "I guess I never asked how you felt talking about this—are we talking about this? Did we just talk about this? I'm sorry if it makes you so nervous but I—I don't actually know why I want to know so badly. I just kind of do. Is that weird? Am I weird? Yeah, I'm weird. Wait, what?"

"Anna?"

"What?"

"You're doing it again."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Anna took a deep breath, looking her sister in eye—as much as she could while they both floated in the spring. "Elsa, can we please talk about a certain part of your body that might or might not be working properly. I know you don't want to talk about it now—cold—but every time you say that I get more and more afraid it means you don't want to talk about it ever. Cold. Elsa!"

"Sorry," Elsa winced, aware of the trails of ice spiralling around her at that moment. "I'm not really that nervous Anna. I guess I'm willing to talk about—"

"Then why do you keep trying to freeze my butt off?" Anna asked skeptically. "I quite like it still attached to me, you know?"

Elsa sighed heavily. "It's because I'm scared Anna."

"You're scared of talking?"

"No, Princess feistypants, I'm scared of what it means. What if… what if… I'm broken?"

"I'm not exactly sure _how_ you'd break that," Anna joked. "I mean, I can see what might break the other bit, but what we have? I'm not seeing it."

"Anna, if you really do want to have this talk, then please take it seriously."

"I'm sorry, it was just—okay, I'll take it seriously," she let out a deep, calming breath. "But I may explode if I can't use some of the jokes I learned recently."

"Oh no…" Elsa's face fell. "No… you didn't."

"I did. I still don't see what's wrong with like half of those jokes anyway. They're _brilliant_. And we're getting distracted."

"It's just—it makes me uncomfortable Anna. I know I need to talk about these things with someone, one day. It's just… well, I feel awkward talking to you about it," Elsa winced, looking away from her sister. "You're my sister, and I don't think we're supposed to talk about things like that, but I really don't know anymore."

Elsa sighed heavily, and Anna remained silent. "I'm afraid of losing you again Anna. You're more than just a sister to me now. You're a confidante, a helper. More than that. You're my best friend Anna—and I guess my only friend too. I never wanted to burden you with that but—"

"You're not a burden Elsa. You never are. You're my sister, and that's all you need to be," Anna brushed her hand against Elsa's cheek, forcing the blonde to turn. "Never doubt that."

Elsa placed a hand gently on Anna's cheek. "Never change. You're just so amazing the way you are. You even managed to get me to talk about—this"—Elsa gestured between her legs with her free hand—"I never had the courage to talk about things like that with anyone. I wish I had your strength."

"You do," Anna assured her sister. "You just use it differently. I know I could never have put up with that much paperwork. Or those letters. Or the angry visitors, or—anyway, we keep getting distracted."

"Maybe we _both_ don't to talk about it," Elsa suggested casually.

"No, it's just you," Anna winked at her sister, "I, on the other hand"—Anna giggled at her own wordplay—"was going to suggest to you that there's an easy way to find out whether or not your lady parts are 'broken', like you said. I mean it's really, really easy, although I'd guess you'd want to be alone with your thoughts when you test it."

"Anna, what are you getting at?"

"I mean, haven't you ever touched yourself… you know… there?"

"Have I ever _what?_ " there was a distinct look of consternation on Elsa's face as she tried to figure out what Anna was saying. There was silence save for the falling water as the moon rose higher and something finally clicked in Elsa's mind. Several tense minutes had passed for Anna, once again wondering if she'd somehow managed to 'break' her sister like that night in the bath—or worse, insulted her somehow. Elsa did seem quite prudish to her.

"Oh, you mean…?" Anna could tell from her sister's confused tone she didn't want to complete the sentence.

" _That_. Yes," Anna replied helpfully. "I used to think of prince charming—now I kinda like thinking of Kristoff."

"What?" Elsa's deadpan tone wouldn't put off her sister.

"I wouldn't be upset if you wanted to think of _me_ , while you…" Anna winked devilishly. Elsa almost missed it in the moonlight. Almost.

"Anna!" the horrified shock and embarrassment in Elsa's voice made it worth it. Anna shivered on the surface of the spring, dragging herself towards the edge. She was looking for a very warm towel, and didn't care what her sister thought at this point. Especially as most of the spring was starting to ice over.

"Anna, no—I didn't mean to—I'm sorry Anna. You just—no, _I_ just…"

"It's okay Elsa, I'm just cold, not frozen. Don't worry about it—the look on your face…" Anna dissolved into a fit of giggles, rolling around on her towel.

Elsa hid her face behind her hands, slowly trying to thaw the spring. "Why do you have to make fun of everything?"

"Come on, admit it, I make everything fun. Look, I'm just gonna go get some fish—I hear there's a particularly cold one in this dark cave somewhere in the forest—"

"Anna!" but Elsa was laughing as she tried to admonish her sister, ruining the effect.

After letting her drift a while longer, Anna carefully helped her sister up onto the shelf of rock around the spring, laying out a towel for her next to her own. Then, after a few moments of rummaging around in her satchel she withdrew a small lantern and a tin of matches, which she promptly used to light the wick of the lantern. The slowly flickering firelight lent a soft, dusky glow to the cave and the uneven ground between the sisters.

Making sure Elsa was comfortable on her towel, Anna lay down once more, turning sideways to just watch her sister. She knew, deep down, that there was something between them. Something more than their bond as sisters. Something deeper and stronger and quite possibly forbidden. But Anna didn't mind. It was part and parcel of Elsa, and she wouldn't ignore it any more than she could Elsa's laugh, or that tiny smile she got when thinking about some of the men she knew. Anna wasn't about to judge because she knew she probably had the exact same smile whenever she thought about Kristoff.

Anna realized something else in that moment. Something important about the relationship she had with Elsa. What it was developing between them. She could show Elsa something, bypass certain barriers, and let her know that certain fears were completely unfounded. It would work as long as Elsa didn't scream or something when she got touched. Anna smiled—Elsa wasn't likely to scream, no, she'd more likely freeze, but that was much easier to deal with.

"I figured it out," Elsa heard Anna say, the redhead suddenly leaning over her. "I mean, I think I have. What you wanted between us."

Elsa gasped as Anna laid her hand on her groin. She didn't know if she could—or would—feel anything, but it sent a terrifying shiver up her spine knowing only the thin fabric of her underwear was keeping Anna from touching her most intimate places. Indecision paralyzed her, and Elsa didn't know what to do. So close to something she'd thought she'd wanted—but now she was afraid of it actually happening. It didn't make any sense. At least until Anna started speaking again.

"What you wanted was never there," Anna said gently. Elsa only had time to think how wrong her sister was before she felt Anna's hand gently touching the top of her breast, just to the left of the middle of her chest. Her heart was pounding now, and she was certain Anna would feel its insistent rhythm. But when Anna spoke again, it was calm, inviting, barely above a whisper. Meant for her ears only.

"It was here," Elsa felt Anna pressing lightly against her chest when she spoke, surer than ever that her sister would feel her racing heart and know something was amiss. But she didn't. And suddenly they were very close. So close the glistening wet strands of fiery hair were blocking out the light from the lantern. Elsa knew then what her sister was trying to do—had succeeded in doing. She'd touched Elsa—in intimate places—and nothing bad had happened. No ice. No freezing. No powers at all. She was trying to show her it would be alright to actually have someone love her like that.

So when she felt Anna's lips brush against hers Elsa nearly fainted in surprise. Just as suddenly Anna was longer on top of her, but breathing rapidly beside her. Elsa touched a finger to her lips, trying to figure out if she'd just imagined that kiss. She couldn't tell. It was so brief she had no way to know. She hadn't even known she'd wanted something like that from… anyone, to be honest. And she certainly hadn't expected her first kiss—if it had actually happened—to come from her sister. She didn't want to break the spell of that moment, but her desire to know was just too insistent. That, and her sister's rapid breathing told her that it probably was real. Right?

"Did you just…?" Elsa asked, completely breathless.

Anna didn't answer at first, just gently squeezed Elsa's hand. Then, finally: "Yes."

"My first kiss…" Elsa wondered out loud. "My sister…"

"Your first?" Anna asked in mock horror, throwing her arm across her head, pretending to hide her shame—while laughing the whole time. "You realize this means I'm your one true love and we have to get married right away, right?"

Anna would have rubbed her shoulder if she'd still had another hand. That might have been slightly harder than Elsa had intended. It still felt like she'd just won a medal.


	26. Consequences

"I did it last time, I'll do it again," Vanja warned the sailor sitting next to her.

"Fine, Ostberg-Lang," the sailor smiled drunkenly, patting his muscular chest and showing off his tattooed arms. "But you can't resist this forever!"

Vanja downed her drink, looked at the sailor, then mumbled. "Oi, Frida! Refill!"

The sailor took a great draught of his own drink, slamming the mug on the table between them. Then he eyed up the competition. He wasn't the only one vying for miss Ostberg-Lang's attention tonight. Two blacksmiths, a silversmith, another sailor, and an absolute bear of a man from the artillery corps. So far miss Ostberg-Lang hadn't shown the slightest interest in any of them—aside from the challenge they proposed about the last man standing getting a kiss. Probably a very drunken kiss, the sailor considered, the way things were going.

The blacksmith on Vanja's right placed a hand on her fur-covered shoulder, and in his inebriated state let it slip lower than it should have. She reacted immediately, cracking the man's knuckles against the table with her left hand. Drunk men took liberties. Liberties she couldn't afford to have taken. Not since… Vanja shook her head, burying the memory with the drink Frida had just brought her. The blacksmith was growling something unimportant, rubbing his bruised knuckles.

After another swig of her drink, Vanja finally took pity on the man, taking his bruised hand in her own, turning it over and inspecting the damage. Bruised knuckles, split skin.

"You'll live," she pronounced, dropping his hand. "Stop touching what isn't yours and that won't happen."

The blacksmith growled something unintelligible, but stared into his drink. Vanja smiled as the sailor who'd tried making a move earlier passed out across from her with a heavy thud against the table, sloshing rum from his over-filled mug. The silversmith hadn't lasted long at all. He'd been too refined for her tastes anyway. Overly polite, almost fawning. But the attention had been nice, for a while.

Now, now she had a little fire in her belly, Vanja really felt like loosening up. A different kind of contest. Arm wrestling, maybe—that would certainly put these men in their place. Underneath the furs she always wore, Vanja Ostberg-Lang was very muscular for a woman her size. For anyone her size, really. The furs weren't for warmth though, as she knew so many assumed. It was because she liked the feel. What most people would never know was that making them had once been her great craft. She still hunted sometimes, following the old ways. Selling pelts helped make a good living, as did her time serving on the council. She knew one of those would eventually run out, and was fairly certain it wouldn't be the pelts she hunted for.

But she was getting sidetracked, time for a contest. She had her quarry in sight now. The other sailor, the one still somehow conscious after drinking so heavily he could have set sail on a sea of alcohol.

"You," Vanja pointed at him, holding her right arm out in the accepted form of challenge for this kind of contest. "Let's go."

"Whaddo I get ifs I win?" the sailor slurred.

"I'll give you a kiss. But you ain't gonna win, tough guy."

The blacksmith on her right counted them in. Vanja could feel the sailor trying to force her hand over, and let him have an inch or so of movement. Then she tensed her muscles and the sailor's hand stopped dead, a look of surprise crossing his drunken face.

"You're cute," Vanja teased the man. "Are you just going to let me win?"

The sailor redoubled his efforts to force her hand over, and Vanja had to admit to being impressed by the massive hawser like muscles in the man's arm. He was very strong, but also very drunk.

"That's more like it!"

With a grunt of effort Vanja pushed the sailor's hand back, forcing it back past vertical. She felt the sailor give a desperate burst of strength to try and force her back, but to no avail. His hand slammed against the wooden table—not quite hard enough to hurt—and Vanja smiled in triumph.

"You buy the next round," The sailor opened his mouth to protest, but Vanja cut him off. "You think a kiss from me wouldn't be worth that much? Oh, well"—she jerked a thumb towards the silversmith and the other sailor—"you can leave them out. It's not like they'd appreciate a drink right now."

"I accept challenge," the massive artilleryman held his arm out in the correct form. "I win, one kiss. You win, I buy the next round."

"Done!" Vanja slammed her fist on the table, then reached out to take the artilleryman's hand. It absolutely dwarfed hers, but she wasn't about to back down. She would never back down from a fight.

The blacksmith counted them in again, then patted his comrade on the shoulder because he'd just got up to leave, muttering something about important work and sleeping it off. He stayed long enough to watch the struggle though. It took ten minutes, and Vanja fought for every one of them, feeling her arm slowly falling sideways as her hand grew ever closer to the tabletop. The artilleryman was just too large, and not nearly drunk enough to be sloppy or weakened by his inebriation.

Massaging her nearly numb hand for a moment, Vanja slammed both her fists on the table in frustration. Well, he'd won, and she'd underestimated him. He leaned in for his prize. Vanja made a show of sniffing his face.

"Clean enough," she said at last, then planted a drunken half-kiss on his lips to the hoots and jeers of the rest of the patrons in Hus av Strykejern.

"You've never seen anyone lose a bet before?" she asked angrily, eyeing the room around her. Everyone else turned back to their own conversations. "I'm done."

And with that, she left, staggering through the dimly lit streets of Arendelle until she reached her home on the outskirts near the woods. She didn't care that being drunk probably made her more vulnerable. It meant she wouldn't have to remember that… no, she was too drunk to deal with that right now. Hopefully she would have forgotten it by the morning. Then she could just go back to hating everyone in equal measure.

* * *

Still in his workshop late at night, Søren had actually seen Vanja stumble past, and had taken a short break to quietly ensure she was okay, watching from afar as she made it to her door. Slipping back into his workshop he sighed at the slightly charred pasty atop the coals in the forge. These things happened, and the filling was still good anyway. The charring just hid his blackened fingerprints.

He was nearly done with the wheels now. The hubs had been easy for Søren, little more than short, hollow tubes, surrounded by discs that had required a great many holes to be drilled through them. He was immensely grateful for the drilling machine his earnings had afforded him two years prior. Then he had to make the spokes—he had talked with other members of the blacksmith's guild about bicycle tyres, and the best way to construct them. Over a hundred spokes all told, all of equal length, with a short bend to hook securely into the hub. The opposite end of each spoke had to be threaded, and then secured inside the rim with a brass nipple.

Søren sighed, getting back to work. Each of the spokes did not extend straight out to the rim of the wheel, instead, they crossed each other in triplets, forming a complicated weave of thin metal rods. Both sides of the wheel were constructed that way, with the nipples screwed on loosely to hold the spokes in place as the other smiths had advised. He was unconcerned that they hadn't questioned his motives. They knew he was always attempting to improve his craft, and if they could show him something new, well, next time he wouldn't have so many questions about their techniques—some of which were quite radical.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Søren yawned, taking in his work. One wheel so far, but now his mind was numbed, and the spokes still had not been tensioned. But he was too tired to continue, so he left himself a short note, and collapsed on the small bed in the room at the back of the workshop. Konrad would understand if he wasn't home. He was a good kid like that. As he drifted off to sleep Søren found himself wondering if Elsa might be so understanding of such things.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'missing'?" Kai held Gerda's gaze levelly, trying to hide his own worry at the implication behind what he'd just heard.

"I checked their rooms Kai, they're not there. Not in the ballroom either. Or anywhere in the castle for that matter. No one can recall seeing them since before yesterday evening. They missed dinner. Princess Anna never skips a meal—"

"We have a problem," Kai's voice was level, but shaky. The Queen always had a plan however, and she would have left clues. "I will check Elsa's study. Princess Anna may be irresponsible, but I know Queen Elsa would at least have left a note if she didn't have time to talk to us."

Kai's hand went to the crucifix beneath his shirt, rubbing it through the fabric as if it were a talisman. If anything has happened to their majesties—no. I mustn't think like that. This is _not_ the same as three years ago. Elsa had mentioned something about the north mountain and another—creation. Was she trying to resolve that? One hand still on his crucifix, Kai opened the door to Queen Elsa's study. Wan sunlight filtered in through the high windows, illuminating a small piece of parchment in the centre of the ornate desk.

Smoothing the paper against the desk, Kai read it and breathed a sigh of relief. _Anna is taking me to a secret place she says Kai helped her find. We intend to be back before midnight._ Kai read the note again, making sure of what he'd just seen. Before midnight. _Before_. Kai hurried to the wall, grabbing the first map of Arendelle he could find, tracing out all possible routes to the place he had helped the Princess find several days ago. It was a respectable distance, a hike maybe two hours long through the woods. Through the woods… through the border forest.

Only then did Kai remember Princess Anna's admission about becoming very lost when searching for the Queen. Only then did he think to question whether or not his Queen might have similar problems. She knew the castle well—she couldn't not—and she knew well enough how to navigate the township of Arendelle. But the forest was something else entirely.

Replacing the map shakily, Kai left the study and went looking for Gerda. Their discussion was brief, and to the point. The captain of the guards was informed of the situation, and search parties were immediately dispatched to the woods. Marshal Gerhardt dispatched his own teams when he heard the news. Teams composed of military scouts and the best fusiliers from the Royal Marines. Teams capable of dispatching any bandits or enemy raiding parties with perfunctory ease. It might not be enemy action, but Gerhardt was unwilling to take that chance.

* * *

Inwardly, Gerhardt cursed at the Queen's pacifistic nature. It was probably worse that the Princess was with her. Elsa would be forced to hold back, to avoid hurting her sister. Gerhardt's blood ran cold. _Both_ Queen Elsa _and_ Princess Anna were missing. A crisis of succession would cripple Arendelle. Gerhardt forced himself to exhale. To consider the possibilities. He already knew neither of the royal sisters had taken a bodyguard with them. They had taken no escort. They were travelling the border forest at night. Elsa had her magic, but would it be enough?

Again, there was the possibility that it might not be enemy action, but that was simply too convenient for Marshal Gerhardt's tastes. Such a move would be a masterstroke at crippling a small nation like Arendelle, and without their Queen, who could the people look to to save them. There were few times Gerhardt regretted having earned his rank the hard way, but this was one of them. His soldiers would listen, but the people would not. He slammed his fist against the edge of his map table in frustration, the tiny figures atop it rattling unsteadily. The best he could hope for now was that this was simply some kind of mistake, and that the Queen had been negligent in informing her staff of her plans.

And when and if she got back, Gerhardt was going to assign her a bodyguard, whether she liked it or not. Queen Elsa's safety was of paramount importance. That was all there was to it. To keep Arendelle safe, he was going to have to keep its Queen safe, possibly even against her wishes—because she seemed to have little regard for her own security, even factoring in the power of her magic. Gerhardt slammed his fist against the table again, several small figures toppling sideways. Dealing with her was infuriating, but she _was_ the Queen, and he would put no other before her.

* * *

Lieutenant Erikson had been tired and grumpy. Had been. Those emotions vanished when he was told why he'd been awakened so early after conducting night drills what felt like mere minutes ago. Elsa was missing. So was Anna. The palace guards had already been sent out to search the forest. Scouts and marine fusiliers were being formed into teams in order to assist them—in case the royal sisters were not missing, but _taken_. Hank was cleaned, dressed and fully armed in under five minutes. So was everyone else under his command.

Each team consisted of two scouts and four fusiliers. There were twenty such teams, and commandant Erling Horn was informing all of them just how the search was to be conducted. The border forest was not considered the safest of places, and that was before the border kingdoms themselves were taken into account. If enemy action was confirmed, the fusiliers were to launch an immediate rescue operation if the scouts could safely locate the Queen and the Princess. If not, they were to report back all their findings in the hopes that it would help speed up the search for the royal sisters.

"You have your orders," barked the commandant. "Now go! Double time!"

* * *

Deep within the border forest, hidden in a cave behind a waterfall, lying near an underground spring, were the royal sisters. One was snoring. The other was being used as a blanket. Elsa let out a surprised gasp when she realized exactly what was going on. Anna lay beneath her, wearing a dress—half wearing a dress, and three towels and two blankets were piled up atop them. It was actually ridiculously warm in the pile of blankets, and the platinum blonde Queen of Arendelle struggled to free herself from its embrace.

She watched Anna roll over, make an odd half-snore, and reach for something before burrowing down into the blankets. The tangled mass of fiery orange atop her head made it look she'd lost a fight with a broom cupboard. Elsa couldn't help but laugh at the mental image that presented. Anna fighting off animated mops and broomsticks before getting ambushed by a soapy bucket and a sponge. Her laughter woke Anna, who immediately complained about the bright sun above them.

"And… and… oh no, we've been here all night. I've been here all night," her hand went to her hair and she giggled. "I guess that's never gonna change. Elsa—Elsa, are you still here? Where'd you go?"

"Over here Anna," Elsa replied from the shadows. "It was getting too hot under that blanket—how can you sleep in that?"

"Because it's nice and warm and oh—wait, was it too hot because of me, or because it's so many blankets?"

"Because of the blankets, Anna. It's fine," Elsa sighed, sitting up, using her magic to keep her upright. "It's not fine. I'm not fine. I—You surprised me last night. I–I'm not sorry, or angry. I'm confused Anna. Everything you said was _right_. I can't deny that. Everything you did. But I still don't know why. Why, Anna?"

"Why what, Elsa?" Anna's voice took on a concerned tone. "Did I–did I do something wrong?"

"No, and that's just it. It felt right. When you kissed me, I mean. It felt right, and it feels so wrong. You're my sister and I shouldn't love you like that, but I do. I know you love me, but I never thought it was in that way…"

"I–I'm not sure it _is_ in that way Elsa. I love you as my sister. I love you as my friend. I love you more than you'll ever know—and I don't always know how to show it, but I like seeing you smile; hearing you laugh. I love everything about you Elsa—well, except for your habit of getting up at dawn, and your stuffy queenliness sometimes, and the way you always have to be so responsible in front everyone. Or the way you have to hide things from people. Hide things from me. I mean, I understand why Elsa, I really do, it's just… it hurts me when you do that. And I know that knowing that hurts you too, so that's why I try not to push these things too much."

Elsa cleared her throat, dragging herself into her chair. "We should be heading back now Princess feistypants."

"Really, Elsa, that's all you've got?" Anna stared disbelievingly at her sister, one eyebrow raised. "I tell you why I like you—how I like you—and I admit there's some things that aren't that great, and all you've got is a 'let's go home'? Seriously?"

"I'm sorry Anna, that was unkind of me. You were honest and open, and I just brushed that off. I like that you feel you can always be that open and honest with me. I'm just a little distracted, okay? I'm not sure what time it is, and I left a note for Kai saying we'd be back before midnight. I'm hungry, and I—well I don't know, really. Hey, how did you manage to fit all that into your satchel—well, mostly?"

"Like this!" Anna demonstrated, shoving everything in, pounding it until it fit, then barely managing to close the flap to secure it. "See, nothing to it. Umm, wanna do anything about your hair—I know we can't save mine."

Conjuring a mirror of ice, Elsa self-consciously ran her hands through her hair, taming most of the frizz and flyaways. Being able to actually freeze her hair in place had nothing to do with it. Or at least Anna hadn't figured out that trick yet. Peering sideways at the mirror, Anna made a half-hearted attempted at reducing her own mane. It made about as much difference as yelling at the wind. She shrugged and decided she could simply live with it.

Emerging from behind the waterfall, Anna pushing her chair, the first thing Elsa saw were the _bautasten_ she'd been unable to read at dusk the previous evening. She bade Anna to stop in front of those standing stones, reaching a hand up to trace the runic script carved into the stones. One of the many things she'd learned in her self-imposed isolation was how to read runes—not just modern runes, but the Elder Futhark as well.

The runes were a short verse extolling the virtues of a long dead king, his wife, and their child. The words were simple, but they evoked a strange longing in the Queen. She gasped when she read the queen's _bautasten_. The rune poem was very different, the prose much more elaborate, but that was not what had caught Elsa's attention. It was the word used to describe what the queen could do: _Ismakt_. It meant ice powers in Norse.

Seeing the word was such a shock, such a revelation, that Elsa nearly wept in relief, prompting her sister to ask if something was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong," Elsa took Anna's hand and guided it to the rune-word. "See this word here?"—Anna nodded, looking questioningly at her sister—" _Ismakt_. It means ice powers, Anna. Ice powers. It means I'm not the only one—but I've never seen that name on the lineage pedigree. The stones are very old, so it's possible that this is from, well, before."

"I wonder what she was like." Anna spoke wistfully, running her fingers gently across the runes. "I wonder if she was like you?"

"I hope not," Elsa replied sadly.

"Why, Elsa?" Anna remained positive. "You're an amazing person, and I can list off like literally dozens of things that make you great but I guess it's not always working because you can't be positive all the time like me and it's okay to not be positive all the time because I guess, I mean it must be hard for someone like you to be brave and face the world and I'm rambling and Elsa did I say something wrong?"

"You wan't to know why I hope she wasn't like me?" Elsa wiped away a tear.

"Why?"

"Because she couldn't have you. If she was like me, and she didn't have you…"

It was Anna's turn to wipe away tears then, and she had to tell a half-hearted joke. "You really _do_ care."

Seeing the mischievous grin on Anna's face was what led to half an hour of chasing each other through the dense woodland, scaring various small animals and scattering snow everywhere. It didn't matter to Elsa that her hair was all messed up, or that every other minute she seemed to be getting tipped from her chair by uncooperative tree roots or hillocks or fallen logs. It didn't matter because she had her magic to put herself right, and if that failed, Anna would double back, deposit her in the chair, and run off again. But even as they played, doubts began to gather in Elsa's mind.

It was easily mid-morning. Possibly noon, depending on when they'd actually woken up. Elsa had left a note for Kai, as she had said earlier. The note was to inform him where they'd gone, and when they were expected back. She sincerely hoped that her and Anna hadn't caused some sort of minor disaster by spending the night in the woods. Remembering the geography of Arendelle, Elsa asked herself exactly which woods these were likely to be. The answer hit her like a sack of bricks. The _border_ forest.

"Damn," it was barely above a whisper.

"What?" Anna managed to hear it, despite being nearly twenty feet away.

"Anna, we just spent the night in the border forest. I told Kai we'd be back by midnight. I think we may have created a slight problem—okay, that's an understatement. It's going to be huge. People are going to be blamed—things are going to be rough when we get back. Not right away, but after. I'm sure the council will be having words with me about 'irresponsible jaunts with your sister' when they find me. Anna I love everything you've done, but—"

"Did I mess up?" Anna asked, voice full of regret. "Was it bad?"

"It's my fault Anna. I didn't think of what might happen, and I didn't know where we were going—no, it was a good surprise, don't apologize—but I should have realized we might end up spending the night away from the castle. I messed things up. Again. Freezing you. Dismissing Gerhardt. Terrifying the Bishop. I keep messing up Anna. Why can't I do anything right?"

"Because you're trying too hard," Anna placed her hand on Elsa's shoulder. "Just relax. Take a deep breath. Let things happen. That's how I deal with messing stuff up. I mean, when I'm not chasing my sister through the fjord and having a whole tree's worth of snow dumped on me and splashing through a frozen river and climbing a mountain to find her shut up in the most awesomest palace made of ice I've ever seen. I mean, there was this one time—"

"Anna, you're rambling."

"Oh. Sorry," and Anna gave Elsa the most adorable chagrined smile she'd ever seen. "Hey, umm, which way is it back to the castle?"

"Kai wasn't lying when he said you have no sense of direction, was he?"

"Hey!" Anna gave an indignant pout. "Okay, fine. But it was hard finding the north mountain in that blizzard. _Everything_ was white."

"Anna, you can see it from the castle. It's so distinctive it's impossible to miss. Supposedly, because _somehow_ , you managed to miss it."

"Hey!"

"Next time we go out I'm bringing a map and a compass, and I'm going to teach you how to use them properly. I'm sure Kristoff knows," Elsa teased with that last statement.

The shouting could be heard for hundreds of yards. Elsa and her sister finally noticed it, hearing their names on the wind. And that was when Elsa knew she was in trouble. She felt six years old again, her hand somehow caught in the cupboard door that held all the chocolate. The fate of which had been obvious from the brownish smudges around her lips and cheeks. This was going to be so much worse. She was the Queen. She was supposed to be a responsible adult. The people scolding her had good reason to do so. And they weren't her parents, but people she knew to some degree; knew and respected. Oh, was it ever going to be bad.

Elsa buried her head in her hands. "I'm dead," she mumbled.

"What?" Anna stared straight at her sister, wondering if she'd actually heard what she just thought she'd heard.

"I am so dead. The whole kingdom must be looking for us now. They're going to ask why. Ask where we were. Ask what we were—ack, Anna. You know I'd never tell them _that_. It was hard enough telling you. But you understood it. Everything it meant. Not everyone is so understanding and forgiving as you are."

"You're afraid they're going to punish you?" Anna asked, incredulous. "But you're the Queen. How could they possibly punish you?"

"They can't. Not really. But they'll have lectures for me. Harsh words. And I have to listen, because it _is_ my fault this time."

Anna's reply was cut short when men of the palace guard came forward through the trees, several of them on horseback. One of the men did a double-take upon seeing the miniature forest caught in Princess Anna's hair. The Queen's hair was in a similar state, but somehow she managed to make it look regal and somewhat dignified. The lieutenant leading the search party dismounted from his horse, offering the sisters a curt bow.

"Your highness, your majesty, if you would, my men and I will lead you from the forest," he turned to another rider, taking his own horse by the reins. "Tell them to call off the search. The Queen has been found."

"We can find our own way home."

"Then we will serve as an escort. The border forest is not a safe place, your majesty."

Elsa knew there was no way out of it this time. Throughout the entire hike home it felt like her cheeks would ignite with the heat of her shame. All this commotion, simply because she hadn't arrived home on time. Elsa felt terrible for worrying everyone so much, but at the same time she was happy. It showed how much the people cared for their Queen. She still wondered how many were helping in the search simply because it was expected of them, and how many were genuinely concerned for her and Anna's safety.

* * *

It was several hours later when they reached the castle gates. Kai stood next to the gates, one hand against his chest, holding the crucifix beneath his shirt. His eyes were full of worry and Elsa couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Anna, staring at her feet, eyes downcast. They'd just wanted to have some innocent fun, Elsa knew Anna had just wanted to show her the spring. They'd messed up and put an entire kingdom on edge.

Kai bowed deeply, finally letting go of the crucifix beneath his shirt. "Your majesty, it is a great relief to see you have returned unharmed."

He turned to Anna. "Your highness, what possessed you to drag the Queen through the woods past midnight?"

"We were going on an adventure. You know the place you helped me find?" Anna was full of energy once more, no more shame-faced. "It's totally real, and amazing, and wonderful and I don't have words for it, Kai. I just don't. I know Elsa does. She knows so many. Oh, oh, and we found these standing stones—well, the ones you found on the map, and Elsa says there was a poem, and the Queen—the one in the poem, not Elsa—she had _Ismakt_. She was like Elsa, but not Elsa, and, and I gotta know more. There's gotta be something in the library, right Kai? Right?"

The ever reliable servant simply gave Elsa a look. She returned it with a raised eyebrow and an expressive shrug. It was Anna, what else could she do?

"Ah, your majesty, Marshal Gerhardt left a note for you earlier. It is in the envelope on your desk. He did not seem happy."

"I'm not sure Marshal Gerhardt is capable of being happy, Kai. He seems all too busy with making plans and scheming about possible conflicts. It's—" Elsa was going to say 'unsettling', because that was how she felt, but it wasn't fair to Gerhardt. He was only doing what he was required to do. "It's his job. I would hazard a guess that the note he left me has something about my safety being his job too. If you wouldn't mind?"

Kai stepped aside, letting Elsa wheel her chair into the castle proper. Gerhardt's note was exactly where Kai had said it would be, placed neatly at the edge of the ornate desk in her study. The books and ledgers from two days ago were undisturbed. Hands trembling, Elsa opened the envelope. The note contained nothing of substance. In fact it contained almost nothing at all.

_Queen Elsa, meet me in the barracks. Now._

How dare he, Elsa raged internally. How dare he presume to tell her what do. How dare he—the fire went out of her, and Elsa sighed heavily. They might have butted heads over certain issues, but Gerhardt _did_ have Arendelle's best interests at heart. She spared a thought to try and see things through Gerhardt's eyes, but she couldn't quite grasp what he might have seen. Elsa tried a different tack; what if she hadn't been Queen, but someone else was? What would the concern be?

How could I have been so stupid? Elsa cursed herself. How could I not have seen that? Am I blind?! Her internal monologue mellowed as she continued to think over the events of the day before. It wasn't deliberate, you just put someone else's needs ahead of your own. You set aside your responsibilities for her, but you'll never blame her. Anna is too much fun to be around. She's like a drug, and you don't care about an antidote. Bad Elsa, bad.

Elsa laughed, it seemed so silly to admonish herself like some misbehaved pet, but it worked. Making her way out of the castle she made sure to inform Kai exactly where she was going, and to inform him that she was unsure as to when she would return, but that she hoped it would be before dinner.

* * *

"Tea?" was Gerhardt's first question when Elsa entered his office. The conversational tone set her on edge.

"No, thank you."

"I honestly did not think you'd be that polite after I left that note for you, your majesty. I'm impressed," the Marshal failed to hide a slight smirk. He knew how Elsa's father would have reacted to such a summons, so this served as something of a test to see how alike they really were.

"I'm not. I know why you summoned me here. You think I was acting like a little girl, not the prim and proper Queen I'm always supposed to be. You also think I nearly caused a crisis of succession by taking my sister with me into the woods."

Gerhardt watched, fascinated, as fractal skeins of ice began to weave their way outwards from where Elsa's hands were placed against his desk. Slowly, so slow their movement was almost hypnotic, but Gerhardt was more interested in what the Queen was saying—and leaving unsaid.

"You probably expect me to deny those things like some petulant child that can't see what she's done wrong." Gerhardt frowned at that. It was, to some degree, what he had been expecting the Queen to do. To have her say it outright, however, meant there was something he'd missed. Or perhaps he'd simply underestimated her political aptitude; and in that respect at least, she was very much her father's daughter.

"But, Marshal, I am not going to deny those things. I am, as many would no doubt say if they were allowed, old enough to know better. I made a mistake, and I admit it. I also have some idea why you called me here to discuss this in private, rather than with the council."

"You do?" Gerhardt interlaced his fingers and leaned forwards, suddenly very interested.

"You plan to appoint someone as my bodyguard, 'for the good of the kingdom' or some such justification. After the commotion I caused this morning, you expect me to be unable to refuse, for fear of causing another such incident."

"Not just yourself, Queen Elsa, but Princess Anna as well. Outside the castle both of you seem to have little regard for your personal security. Arendelle, for the most part, respects and venerates the both of you. For the most part, as I said," Gerhardt's tone hardened. "Not everyone is like that. The wider world, the kingdoms around us"—Gerhardt spread his hands above the map on his desk—"they are not like Arendelle. Perhaps with the exception of Corona. My point is this, your majesty: the world is not a safe place. You will need protection. And in my life, I have found it more prudent to have such protection and never have needed it, than to need such protection and never have had it."

"Anna as well?" Gerhardt couldn't quite decipher the look that flashed across the Queen's face. Something over and above mere familial concern.

"Yes," Gerhardt nodded. "Both of you. If we—by which I mean Arendelle—were to lose either one of you it would be a great tragedy, much as when your parents were lost. If, however, both of you were lost, it might well destroy the kingdom. You have no heirs. Your parents are dead. Your closest relative by blood lives across the ocean in Corona. It would be a crisis of succession the likes of which Arendelle has never seen. Your safety is our paramount concern. You may hate me for this, and you may chafe at such an intrusion, but you are going to have a bodyguard appointed before the council meets again.

"One way, or another."

"I could always dismiss you, Gerhardt. It wouldn't be hard," the Marshal gave a little shiver then smiled darkly. There was an easy way out of _that_ one. He'd been saving it for a later occasion, something a little more public, but it would work just as well here, with a minimum of modification.

"You could. It would be easy. The rest of the council knows we don't get along, but I get the feeling questions would be asked. Questions of why. Of what I might have done, or said. Do you think your story could hold up to that kind of scrutiny?"

"Bastard," she all but spat at him.

"Call me whatever you want, your majesty. It doesn't change the fact that I'm right. You need protection, whether you want to admit that or not. You've already said you won't use your magic to harm people—which you might have to do if you were protecting yourself—so you need a protector who is willing to do that for you. I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you can never talk to me again. All I care about is that Arendelle is kept safe, which means _you_ have to be kept safe."

Gerhardt saw the ice behind the Queen's eyes, how hard she was holding back to keep from freezing something over. Half the desk was now covered in frost, tiny spikes rolling forward like waves cresting on the sea. He remembered the look she'd given him in the last meeting when he'd suggested bodyguards. A look that suggested she would never trust someone he had hand-picked for the task, no matter how qualified that soldier might be. So perhaps there was a way to defuse this.

"I am not the heartless monster so many think I am, sitting here above the rank and file, deciding who lives and who dies in war. My ultimatum remains the same: you require a bodyguard before the next council meeting. I know you would never trust anyone I chose, so perhaps you should try getting to know some of the men who are ultimately under your command."

"What?" the surprise in Elsa's eyes was clear to see. This was clearly not what she'd been expecting. Gerhardt allowed himself a small smile.

"Get to know the men. Maybe one will stand out as being good enough for you to employ. You had best do so quickly, because if you haven't chosen a bodyguard by the next council meeting, I will choose one for you."

"Can–can marines serve as bodyguards?"

"If you consider them more trustworthy than our other soldiers or sailors, certainly."

Gerhardt didn't both asking why. If the Queen was asking such a question there could only be one reason.

Elsa left, not bothering to thaw Gerhardt's desk. That annoyingly self-satisfied smile had just been too much.


	27. Loyalties

"You want me to be _what?!_ " Lieutenant Erikson's voice echoed across the field of assembly. Luckily no one else was close enough to hear either of them talking, which was important, considering he'd just called the Queen's judgment into question. "Not that I am incapable of such duties, but I ask myself why. Why, when there are so many others here far more capable as warriors or guardians than myself?"

" _You_ managed to earn my trust—a little of it, at any rate. _They_ have not," Elsa sat in her chair, hands folded serenely in her lap. She had expected some protest, some surprise from lieutenant Erikson, but his next words just sounded obstinate.

"Your majesty, you haven't even given them the chance to—"

"I chose you, Hank," Elsa hoped using the lieutenant's first name might help him see things differently. "You, and you specifically."

"You chose me. I have not earned the right to serve as protector for anyone."

No such luck. Elsa sighed wearily, wishing lieutenant Erikson could see what she saw. She had chosen him to serve as her bodyguard because, while he might not have fully earned that right, he was closest to being able to understand what her wants and needs might really be. Then again, this would only be the fourth time they'd met, face-to-face, or in any capacity. Perhaps he doubted himself familiar enough to intrude upon her life that much—which, upon some consideration, was exactly the kind of intrusion Elsa was seeking. She sighed again. She knew Anna would tease her no end if this blew up in her face, or fell flat on its face. Oh, she'd be adorably cute while she did it, but it would still sting.

"Are you so sure of that?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me, lieutenant Erikson, how a man might earn the honour of protecting his Queen?"

That was not a question Hank had been prepared for. He'd expected to explain about requiring a contest of some sort, a test to determine who amongst the marines would make a better bodyguard. Valour, devotion, loyalty, perception, discretion. Five key traits. Hank's brows furrowed slightly as he thought. Make that six, skill-at-arms was a definite requirement for a bodyguard. While he had all of those traits, Hank wasn't sure he had enough of them. Only the very best were worthy of protecting the Queen, and he would never be so arrogant as to assume he belonged to that elite.

No, he was just a reasonably skilled soldier, of common birth and common—but proper—manners. He had also managed to catch the Queen's eye, a fact that had escaped neither's attention. Or Ingvar's, for that matter. He'd started a rumour—not unkindly—about Hank and the Queen shortly after he'd come back from visiting the castle that day. The day Elsa—Queen Elsa—had teased him about graces; the day Princess Anna had fallen into a fountain.

Elsa had asked him a question, and Hank realized he was silently stalling for time. Enough of that. Hopefully she would appreciate the truth more, spoken with candor, than she would any comforting lies. And if she was determined to place her trust him, she deserved the truth, no matter what it might eventually cost.

"First, such a man must possess great valour. At heart he must be able to face the greatest of challenges. He must also be prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. Fear must never cross his mind if such a decision is to be made."

"You already possess a greater valour than you know, lieutenant Erikson. You reached out to me—to _me_ —without a hint of fear after I froze a young boy. That took more than a little courage," Elsa winked, continuing. "Not all forms of courage require great deeds upon the field of battle or the slaying of tyrants that live in mountain lairs."

Hank shuffled uncomfortably at the praise, folding his hands behind his back before continuing quietly.

"A bodyguard must also be both loyal and devoted to his charge. Loyal, such that no offer of land, nor riches, nor infamy shall tempt him to betray his master. Devoted, such that his will is invested solely in the protection of his master. Devoted, such that if a decision must be made to protect his master at the greatest of costs, he will never err, and never hesitate."

Elsa frowned slightly, considering what she'd just heard. Lieutenant Erikson was making solid points, and she had not yet had reason to question—or test—his loyalties. It seemed like he was trying to tell her would be unsuitable for the job. He was, in effect, questioning her judgement. With a moment's reflection it made sense. He was right to question her judgement—even as Queen she was not infallible—he was right to do so because she had not even considered anyone else for the role. It was hard to consider anyone else, because she thought she'd seen the true character of lieutenant Erikson. Yet here he was, advising caution even against himself.

Lieutenant Erikson would be no mere bodyguard however; his true role would be akin to that of an old _houskarl_ , guard, retainer, and assistant. Elsa still wondered why he advised against his own employ in such a role—unless he had not already thought through what being her bodyguard would really mean. _That_ gave Elsa pause. How best to explain things?

"Loyalty and devotion must be important traits for any guard to have, and a royal protector even more so. But that is not all you would be, lieutenant Erikson. As you can plainly see, the use of my legs has been cruelly denied me. This means there are a great many things of which I am no longer capable, and a great many more which I need assistance in performing."

"Queen Elsa, all this implies that you should spend longer seeking the perfect bodyguard and retainer, not a shorter time. I apologise if that seems impertinent, but I must state clearly my objections to what seems to me to be rash and hastily made decision. You deserve only the best, and you deserve the time in which to find that person."

"You should not feel the need to apologise for your candor, but I must inform you that time was not a luxury I was given."

"But you are the Queen, your majesty. Should you not have had the time to choose this person on your own terms, at the time that was better suited to you?"

"I should have, but the events of the morning seem to have caused my advisors to reach a tipping point in their consensus of what is good for me—whether I may like it or not. Only you—amongst all the men that serve in our nation's army, navy, and marines—only you have shown me true compassion. Only you have let me glimpse your heart with no designs on mine. That was what earned you my trust, lieutenant Erikson. I pray it was not misplaced."

As she spoke, Elsa had been fidgeting with the crucifix bishop Gudbrand had gifted to her. Somehow, it seemed to give her strength. She knew she would need it if Hank refused her request. She could have made it an order, but that would have broken the fragile threads spun between them. It would have made him resentful, and her regretful. Resentment would turn to anger, and then he would leave. And in her shame she would be unable to stop him, unwilling to hurt him further. If he truly did not think himself suitable for the role of protector and assistant to the Queen, then she would not force him into it.

But it would still hurt.

"I'm sorry, but could you please repeat that?" Elsa asked, realizing Hank had been talking while she'd been lost in thought.

"Certainly, your majesty. I said that I too hoped your trust in me was not misplaced, but that you had witnessed too little of my actions to make that decision as yet," Hank spoke softly, hating that he had to disappoint the Queen in this way. It was the truth, and it hurt—as the old adage went—but it needed to be heard. Elsa, Queen Elsa, had to make the best decision possible, decide on the best course of action to take. She should not have been forced to act on incomplete information. An idea came to him then.

"Could you not ask your advisers for more time in finding the correct bodyguard?"

"No," Elsa's sad sigh caught him off-guard. "For the good of the kingdom I cannot. And neither, for that fact, can my sister."

"It brings me great pain to deny your request, Queen Elsa, but as a soldier, even as an officer, I am simply unworthy of the honour which you would have bestowed upon me. I will state candidly that I do not know who amongst the marines I would entrust with such a task, but I would ask simply that it not be myself."

"A request from the Queen is not always so easily turned down, lieutenant Erikson," Elsa's words had an edge that Hank couldn't quite decipher. It was less than a warning, but more than… something he couldn't quite name. The pain behind Elsa's eyes broke his heart, but nothing he had just said had been untrue. He was courageous, as she had said, and he was most certainly loyal to Arendelle, but the simple fact of the matter was that he simply was not a good enough person to be the Queen's bodyguard and assistant—or whatever such a role might be called.

"I know no one else," Elsa hid her face behind her hands, talking quietly. "Which means my protector will be the man chosen by Gerhardt. A man I could never trust."

Hank was quite sure that last remark had not been meant for his ears, or for anyone's ears for that matter. While he might not have liked the Marshal of Arendelle, Hank had no reason to distrust him. Marshal Gerhardt had an agile and able mind, and had earned the respect of his peers. That he expected respect from others as if he were of noble birth grated with some people; however his proven skill in battle, and his tactical nous made up for it. Mostly.

But there was one thing Marshal Gerhardt could not stand. He made a point of it every time a draft notice went out and he gave his speech. He made a point of it every time he addressed his soldiers before an exercise—and doubly so before sending them into battle. A soldier who was unwilling to fight, Gerhardt often said, was worthless. He is more worthless than a soldier who died in vain. He is more worthless than a deserter. More worthless still than a traitor. A soldier who died in vain still _did_ something. A deserter _ran,_ removing himself as a problem until he was caught. A traitor _fought_ for something—for someone else. A soldier who would not fight, a _pacifist_ —Gerhardt would spit the word out—was worse than useless because he had all the skills and power of any of the others, but he refused to use them. Because of that, other soldiers would die. Soldiers willing to fight. Soldiers capable of fighting.

Hank looked at the Queen with pity. If anyone had the right to be a pacifist, it was her. After all the violence she'd been party too, after all the fear and fighting, she'd earned the right not to have to fight again. It was not the place of a queen to fight. It was the place of a queen to rule. Hank considered the cruel irony that Elsa had been doing much more fighting than ruling since the—incident, as it was being called. She fought to control her powers. She fought to keep her sister safe. She fought for her kingdom. She fought for the right to be treated as equal, not because of her powers, but in spite of them. She was even fighting to turn him into her protector. She fought with the kind of strength Marshal Gerhardt had a hard time accepting. Hank was angry, but it wasn't possible to change the Marshal's views.

His own, on the other hand; he could change those with as much ease as he could change the stars. But sometimes, just sometimes, the stars would move about in the heavens and things _would_ change. Portents and omens, but the sky could change, and so could he. Hank placed a hand against Elsa's shoulder, unsurprised by the sudden dusting of snow. He would get used to such things. He would have to, there was no other way.

"Though I am not worthy, Queen Elsa, I, lieutenant Henrik Erikson of the third Arendelle Marine Fusiliers do pledge my sole service to you in the role of protector and… and whatever else this position may entail," Hank smiled down at the Queen, who had just turned to look at him, blue eyes awash with relief. "I do hope you know what you're doing, your majesty."

"So do I Hank," she replied softly, taking his snow dusted hand in one of her own. Softer, she repeated: "So do I."

* * *

The castle never failed to impress Kristoff. Compared to the barns and huts in which he normally slept, it was immense. He imagined how easily some of those barns could fit in the grand hall. He began to imagine filling the dining room—where he had once shared dinner with royalty—with the huts in which he sometimes slept. He was up to seven by the time anyone noticed him at the threshold of the castle's inner doors. He noticed that someone too, despite the tangled mess of her hair—and what looked to be a small forest growing from it.

"What happened to your hair?"

"Well that's a nice hello," Anna smiled as she rolled her eyes. "Me and Elsa were playing in the forest this morning. We maybe caused a minor little crisis that had half the kingdom looking for us, but it's okay now, 'cause we're back safe, and everything's alright. Hey, why are you here anyway?"

"Some hello that is too, Princess feistypants," Kristoff smiled at his not-quite-girlfriend as she rushed over to him. "I was actually looking for Queen Elsa."

"Wait, why?"

"Well, she gave me a title, and that came with some responsibilities, like actually _delivering_ the ice to neighbouring towns. I've finished a few runs, so now its time to collect more ice, either from the Queen, or the mountains."

"You mean you're not here for me?" Kristoff wasn't sure how much of the hurt in Anna's voice was real, and how much she was just putting on.

"The world doesn't revolve around you," Kristoff replied lightly, wrapping an arm around Anna. "Even if you are the Princess."

"I never said that. I was always the spare—people didn't dote on me like they did on Elsa. Even when she… even after… anyway, I'm used to it. But why can't it revolve around me sometimes? What about your world? Does it revolve around me? Or is it just about ice and snow—and Sven?"

"That is… that's not… okay, fine. I mean sometimes, sure, like birthdays and things like that. But not all the time, because you're not that important to the—ow! Anna. And why should my world revolve around you? Does yours revolve around me?"

"No… my world revolves around E—anyway, I think you know who I spend most of my time with."

"Do I?" Kristoff teased, making a face. "I hardly see you—yes, I know it's my fault too—but I know how much you love your sister. But you shouldn't spend all your love on just one person Anna, even if you were apart for thirteen years. If you want love to grow around you, you have to plant the seeds yourself. One seed only leads to a single tree. Love is meant to be a forest, wild and untamed—that's what Grand Pabbie says anyway. Not sure I always understand that, but I know that one lonely tree doesn't make a forest."

"Elsa isn't the only person I love, Kristoff. She's just the one I love the most, even… well, the most, and she loves me back in the same way. She doesn't think she deserves my love, not after everything she's done. It hurts when she says that—it really does. But I can't tell her because it would hurt her even more to know she's hurting me again. And I'm terrible at keeping secrets, everything that's bottled up inside just makes me wanna explode sometimes, y'know?"

Anna folded her arm across her stomach, and looked fixedly at the floor. "But I can't. Some of our secrets… I just can't."

"Can't what, feistypants?"

"I don't know. Can't keep them hidden forever, I guess. Can't tell anyone else. Can't tell if I'm strong enough to keep them secret for so long," Anna gave up with a cry of frustration, shaking her head sharply before looking to Kristoff. "I'm glad I can talk to you."

"I, uh—you're welcome?"

"I'm not sure when Elsa's going to be back. Kai said something about someone called Gerhardt leaving her a note. She rushed off a little while later. But you're here, and I'm here, and we kinda made plans for yesterday, didn't we?" Anna put that last question in what she thought of as a sultry tone.

"We did, but I don't think we have enough daylight left for that. Oaken's shop is quite some distance away, and I know we wouldn't be back before nightfall. I wouldn't want to be the guy that started all sorts of scandalous rumours about a certain fiery princess—umm, I mean, rumours that got started because of me, not because _I_ started them and—"

"It's okay Kristoff, really, it is. I know what you meant," Anna sighed softly. "I know I'm supposed to maintain this royal image thingy, but it's hard being all proper all the time when people can see me. I just want to be myself—and I try, but people keep reminding me what I should and shouldn't be doing as the Royal Princess. I mean, Elsa's not doing it so much anymore, but I swear she's probably still thinking it. At least you were never bothered by it."

"Because I never knew you were a princess. I just thought you were some silly girl that happened to get caught in a blizzard. Then you just had to ruin my perfectly good life—hey, how would you describe it if someone you just met completely messed up everything you knew or did? Yeah… that's what I thought. Ow. Okay, sorry, but it doesn't make it any less true. I did forgive you for doing that stuff—but that doesn't mean I've forgotten it. Like nearly setting me on fire."

"But I didn't."

"Nearly. An inch off the top between Kristoff and a barbeque."

"Hmm, I wonder what that wolf would've tasted like…"

"You're missing the point here."

"I mean, it did kinda catch on fire after I hit it, but that's not enough to cook something like that, right?"

"Anna, focus!"

"Oh, sorry," Anna shook her head. "Kinda drifted of for a moment there; you were saying?"

"An inch off the top. Between Kristoff and no Kristoff."

"Oh please, I knew I wouldn't hit you."

"Your face says otherwise."

"Hey!"

"Well, you did just look kinda worried about it. Like maybe you _weren't_ so sure you'd miss me."

"Fine. But I still saved your life."

Don't say it Kristoff. Just hold your tongue. Don't you dare say it.

"If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have been in danger in the first place!"

Damn. You really know how to get along with people, don't you? And in his mind that was delivered in Sven's mildly accusing tone.

"If it wasn't for…" Anna sputtered. "I think you can just wait for Elsa right there. I'm leaving."

And she did, storming off in a huff, hips swaying slightly as she walked. Kristoff couldn't help himself, he watched her ascend the grand stairs, then walk off without ever looking back. Even when she walked off like that, she still looked beautiful. It didn't hurt that she'd been leaving a trail of various bits of forest as she walked—falling from her hair as it bounced over her shoulders. She'd be back, Kristoff knew, Anna could never stay angry for long. Maybe it was his problem, he decided at length. Maybe he was still sore after losing his sled over the cliff, and maybe a new sled and an official apology hadn't been enough for everything he'd gone through helping her.

He'd do it again too, that was the problem. Kristoff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd do it all again because he did actually enjoy Anna's company. He'd do it all again because her and Elsa deserved each other—in a good way. He'd do it again because it was simply the right thing to do. That was why he currently hated himself, rather than everyone else. He was too willing to do the right thing. It had led to trouble in the past, and that's why he avoided people these days. Well, he tried to anyway. Anna was hard to avoid—she liked it that way. And Kristoff had to admit, he liked it that way too.

* * *

The docks were always abuzz with activity. Ships were constantly coming and going, loading and unloading their cargoes. Passengers being taken on runs were not uncommon. Many were willing to travel in steerage to see the greater world. A few merchant ships catered specifically for passengers, promising comfortable voyages at reasonable prices. Routes included Prussia, France, Brittania, Spain, and even the Americas. None of those particularly impressed Stefan Larsson. But he never came to the docks to be impressed, he came to the docks to deliver information, or, as today, to receive it.

"Watch where you're going!" came the cry as he bumped into an older man. As he fell, he felt a hand snaking inside his jacket. But when the hand was withdrawn it had taken nothing. Larsson knew better than that where to keep his valuables. Then the older man offered his hand, and Larsson saw his cufflinks. Specifically, the emblem thereupon. It was not, as many incorrectly surmised, a weasel. It was an ermine, which meant this man was to be trusted. For now.

"The ground here is treacherous," Larsson issued the challenge, rising with the man's help. If this man answered incorrectly, well, it could still be made to look like an accident. "The docks can be slippery when wet."

"Pay heed to your footing. Not everything will thaw so swiftly."

"Indeed, my old friend. I fear a chill is fast approaching," Larsson started walking, the other man following him at a respectful and inconspicuous distance.

"A good fire will scour the chill from your bones, young man. You remember my advice," the stranger tipped his hat, then mingled with the crowd, instantly vanishing.

Larsson gently patted his jacket pocket, as if checking for his wallet or watch. There was a distinct bulge in the fabric. Opening his jacket he could just make out the edge of a small envelope. He shivered. This was it. Hopefully the Duke would be giving him reign to act now, to act such that Arendelle would appear to betray Spain when they next met. Yes… all he needed now was to ensure Einar was the one sent on the diplomatic mission. Minister Johanssen would not take much convincing.

It was a pity really, because Johanssen should have been dead. His junior, Havard Vang, was much more conservative. It would have been so easy to control him, but minister Johanssen just had to survive his ordeal. Larsson considered if sending Havard might not be a better idea than sending Einar. No, Einar would always work better. He had ambition beyond his ability. Havard had neither, but Johanssen liked something about the boy, so had named him his protege.

There was also the other matter which Larsson had a hand in orchestrating. The idiots had of course managed to get themselves discovered. Starting over on _that_ project had been more than frustrating, but the eventual payoff would reward that extra effort handsomely. Now he had reinforcements. The new group had not proved nearly as inept as the first trio.

Finally reaching his home some time later, Larsson made sure that everything within was secure and undisturbed. Windows were checked. The door was bolted. Bedroom curtains were drawn. Then the basement, with its rickety wooden steps, was aglow with light of a gaslamp on the far wall. Putting his feet up on the edge of a chest, Larsson sat on a barrel of grain. An empty barrel. Only then did he withdraw the envelope, flicking his switchblade open to cut the seal.

Reading the letter carefully, Larson memorized every word. He read it again to be sure. If the commotion this morning had been anything to go by, this really would cripple Arendelle at a critical juncture. Because apparently whatever the Duke could not acquire with a silver tongue and veiled threats would be taken by force. Larsson smiled darkly. The more chaotic the situation in Arendelle was, the better chance the Duke's forces would ultimately have. The Queen's disregard for her own safety while traveling was about to come back to bite her. Larsson frowned. There had been hints about employing bodyguards. Whatever, they would have to be watchful every moment. He only needed to be watchful, to be lucky, exactly once.


	28. Words Unshared, Tears Unshed

**Trigger Warnings for Suicidal Themes**

* * *

Anna lay curled up in her bed, damp hair already starting to tangle. Elsa had insisted she take a bath to 'wash the forest off her', and as was usual now, Elsa bathed with her. Her sister had been distant all afternoon, absorbed in herself. Not in a good way either. Anna had seen the way her sister's eyes flicked sideways at sudden noises, the way she started when someone drew too near. It was a worrying development.

Elsa had said nothing about it during their bath. She'd kept the conversation deliberately light. She also avoided mentioning what they'd done the previous night in the cave. Anna honestly could not see the harm of one little kiss. It was the kind of affection Elsa deserved; the kind Anna was sure her sister needed. But apparently it played on her sister's mind in a different way. That was not the only change the day had wrought. Not by a long shot. Elsa had brought a man back with her. A familiar man. Lieutenant Erikson—Hank. Elsa had explained his presence at length, likening it to an old fashioned _houskarl_.

Then she'd explained that Anna needed a similar bodyguard. The red haired princess frowned at that, remembering her own reaction, remembering the way Elsa had apologized again as if it were her own fault. She'd explained how she was being forced into it by Marshal Gerhardt. Anna had had half a mind to explain to this Gerhardt just how ably she could protect herself—most likely using the incident with the wolves and that other one with Marshmallow as evidence. Then Elsa had gently reminded her how those had ended, the first with dropping a sled off the edge of cliff; the second, with dropping the Princess off the edge of a cliff.

Kai had been giving her fencing lessons at one stage, Anna recalled fondly. Perhaps it was time to take them up again, only this time, she was going to win. Well, eventually. If she managed not to trip over everything or face completely the wrong way again. She remembered accidentally slapping a certain prince when she explained things. She had issues working out personal spaces. Throwing something sharp and pointy into the mix with her lack of coordination and inability to perceive personal spaces—maybe it would be safer for everyone if someone _else_ held the sword.

Elsa had told lieutenant Erikson he could retire for the night after dinner. Anna distinctly remembered hearing that, and then hearing Hank ask if he should retire only to the guardrooms, or to his old quarters in the barracks. Elsa had suggested he use one of the guest rooms for the night, and more permanent arrangements could be made in the morning. Hank had politely declined that, and by then Anna had finally figured out what was going on. Hank was going to be more than a bodyguard, but he either didn't know it, or perhaps didn't think it proper.

Anna turned to face her sister, smiling when she saw Elsa was asleep. The moonlight that filtered through the windows of Anna's room fell behind Elsa, turning her hair into a silvery halo and leaving her still troubled face wreathed in shadow. Anna shuffled closer, wrapping her arm around Elsa and pulling her into a warm hug. Elsa stirred but didn't wake, nestling into the redhead's shoulder. Anna smiled sadly as she tried to imagine what might be going through Elsa's mind—none of what she saw was particularly happy. But there was one image that stopped her cold—her own body, frozen on the fjord, with Elsa crying over it. Even though she cried and cried, Elsa's tears could not thaw this statue. It was the worst thing Anna could think of, and it sent a shiver down her spine even as she held Elsa close, hoping to give warmth to her darkened dreams.

As Anna poured her warmth into her sister, she remembered her own darkest moment. It was not as recent as Elsa's, but it was much, much worse. To her, it would have been the ultimate betrayal. She'd been fifteen at the time, more things than she ever thought about were changing, both inside and out. But the hardest change had come when that black veil fell across the faces of her parents. Gerda and Kai had been incredibly solemn, yet Anna knew, even then, that they were only just holding it together so that she could hold herself together. Then the funeral had come, and gone. Elsa still had not been seen. Anna was sure Elsa blamed her for it, for everything. In a fit of teenage pique, she'd decided the best decision would just be to remove herself from the picture entirely.

* * *

As usual Anna had not thought things through—she remembered that with a rueful little smile. The night had been bitterly cold through her thin gown. She hadn't thought something like that would matter, but in the end it was what had stopped her. One of the taller towers, one without a garden below it. A tower that happened to have a view of Elsa's window, and through it, her room. Looking up at the moon, Anna shivered in the cold air, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. A gentle breeze had lifted snow from one of the crenellations, and Anna's gaze just happened to follow it.

What she saw broke her heart, but filled her with a steely resolve. It was Elsa, her hair down, loose and unkempt. Her hands rubbed at her eyes, and Anna knew her sister had been wiping away tears. She imagined what it must be like, held prisoner in a tiny room, unable to see anyone. Unable to talk to anyone. When had she last heard Elsa's voice? A year ago? Two? Three? It had been so very long. At this distance Anna couldn't see much of her sister, but she could see the way she held herself, the way she tried to contain her emotions—but why? The figure in the window looked straight at her, surprise evident as she froze in shock. The window around her seemed to be frosting over from the cold of the night.

Elsa waved to her sister through the window, a small, tentative movement. It was like she wasn't sure what she was seeing was even real. Anna lifted her right hand as high as her shoulder and gave a little wave back. The window frosted over completely as Elsa realized who it was on top of that tower. Anna saw a silhouette running for the door, unsure why she might be moving so fast. Anna had almost forgotten why she was out on this windy precipice so late at night. Oh, right… now it just seemed so silly. Elsa was a real stinker, never talking to her, running back to her room and locking the door if she ever caught sight of Anna. For so long Anna thought her sister had hated her. But now, now it was clear that Elsa was just sad, and lonely, and for some reason wasn't allowed to see other people outside the castle staff.

That realization had hit Anna like a physical blow, and she knew that she could never, not for a second, think about leaving Elsa alone again. At the time, she hadn't known it would take another three years for her to really see Elsa again. She had no way of knowing what it would ultimately cost them. It was all worth it in the end, even the scolding she'd got from Gerda—who'd known exactly what she'd been planning, apparently. Gerda, who'd quietly arranged to have a hay cart 'forgotten' beneath the tower earlier in the day. Gerda, who'd sent captain Ragnar of the palace guard to quietly follow the Princess from the third floor—captain Ragnar who had almost caused her to fall from the tower when he'd revealed his presence. It was, honestly, the last time Princess Anna had ever entertained such thoughts.

* * *

Slowly drifting back to where she was tonight, Anna cradled Elsa's head in her hand, and gently pressed her lips to her sister's forehead.

"I guess Gerda probably already told you like ages ago, but thank you," Anna whispered, kissing Elsa's forehead again. "Thank you for saving my life."

Anna didn't know how much her sister had heard and understood while she slept, but she felt Elsa's arm enfold her in a sleepy hug. Elsa's head nestled against the redhead's shoulder once more, and she felt Elsa's gentle breath against her collarbone. It tickled. For some reason a light dusting of snow was falling, but Anna could feel her sister smiling, could feel the warmth she radiated at that moment. Out of the corner of her eye Anna saw something slowly building up at the foot of the bed. Where the snow touched it, it flowed from pure white to glassy and clear. Holding Elsa close, she hoped she wouldn't see the same statues from the night she'd lost her arm.

She didn't. The statue was young woman, her face was round, with a small nose—a cute little nose—and large eyes, filled with love. The statue's body was exquisite, thin without being fragile or delicate. Shapely without overly emphasizing any one feature. Hair that fell in a braid over her left shoulder. No, over both shoulders. Anna gasped in wonder. Was this… her? Was this her, as Elsa saw her?

It had to be. There was no one else in Elsa's life like that. Anna didn't want to wake her sister to ask at any rate. If she was dreaming of Anna, well, it had to be a good dream. A very good dream considering how warm Elsa felt tonight, and… what was that little shiver? There was another little shiver, and Elsa seemed to simply melt, falling away from her sister, eyes closed with a blissful smile on her face. Seriously, in my bed? Anna mentally asked her sister. Something about that thought brought her up short. In _my_ bed. Mine. You realize this is your own fault, right? she asked herself. You did kind of encourage her to, uh, try… that. _And_ you said you wouldn't mind if she thought of you while she…

Anna rolled over, facing away from her sister, now a little too disturbed to go to sleep. It was her fault for teasing her sister like that. She never meant for Elsa to take it seriously. Maybe she hadn't; but her dreams certainly had. Grabbing a handful of the blankets, Anna pulled the covers a little tighter, then snuggled into the bed. She needed sleep more than she needed to think about what her sister was doing—had done—right now.

* * *

The first thing Elsa noticed when she woke up was a pair of large turquoise eyes staring at her. The second was a knowing grin across the lips of her sister. The third was that Anna had tried—unsuccessfully—to tame the mane she had without the use of a brush. It was only after she processed all of this that she realized Anna had woken up _before_ her. She raised an eyebrow at her sister. Anna just continued to smile, then pointed to the foot of the bed.

"You have a nice dream last night?" she asked conversationally.

Elsa saw the icy statue, and froze. It seemed as if her magic was quite willing to betray exactly what she'd been dreaming about. Anna rose to sit cross-legged, waving an accusing finger in the air. She waved that finger as she spoke, silently mocking Gerda's habits.

"You know it's rude to do that in someone else's bed, especially if the courtship is not yet official," Elsa looked quite flustered, and a huge grin cracked Anna's mock-serious visage. A second later she had to bury her face in a pillow to suppress her laughter. Taking a moment to compose herself, Anna addressed her sister more seriously. "We can talk about that later—or not, if it's too awkward for you right now and I mean of course it's awkward 'cause you did that in your sleep in my bed and anyway that's not what I'm worried about."

"It's not?" Elsa propped herself up on her elbows, throwing a couple of pillows under her back for support.

"Are you alright?" and Elsa saw those turquoise eyes searching her with a furious intensity, as if trying to see right through her, into her soul. Anna wanted so badly to help, she always did, and Elsa knew it hurt her when she couldn't help. This would be worse, because it would scare her, and Elsa didn't want to see her sister afraid of anything—didn't want to be the cause of that kind of fear for anyone.

Idly fiddling with the cross beneath her nightgown, Elsa spoke softly to her sister. "I'm worried, Anna. About Arendelle; about us. Marshal Gerhardt insisted I find a bodyguard. You too. He said it was for the good of the kingdom, and it probably is. But the thing is, we've never needed guards like that in the past. Even papa and mom didn't have them. Arendelle has always been a secure territory as far as the monarchy goes. So needing a bodyguard means Gerhardt—and possibly the rest of the council—is afraid of something happening to either of us.

"I don't like thinking about it, but with Gerhardt being so dead-set on us having bodyguards, it means there must people out there that want to kill us. People Gerhardt hasn't found. No, Anna, I didn't mean to scare you, but that's the truth of the matter. I'm afraid for me. I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid of what I might do if someone hurt you—of what I might become. But it's worse than that, because Gerhardt told me what my powers could do in a war. I'd be a weapon. A powerful weapon. There are a lot of other kingdoms and countries that would pay handsomely to see such a weapon taken out of the equation—permanently."

"I… I… Elsa…" Anna flopped bonelessly on her sister, wrapping her up in one arm as she fought back tears, hoping her sister wouldn't notice.

Elsa noticed.

"I–I'm sorry Anna, but you did ask if I was alright, and I'm not. Not while I'm worrying about all of that. Not while I'm worrying about you. I'm so scared that I'll mess up again, and then this time you'll pay the price… and… and… I won't let that happen. Ever."

"We could always live in the ice palace, have an army of Marshmallows for guards," Anna winked at her sister. Elsa placed a hand against her forehead and sighed, shaking her head ruefully.

It wasn't that simple. Not after the things she'd discovered about her magic, the silent oath she'd sworn to never even try to use the breath of life again. Ruling a kingdom would be quite difficult from the ice palace. Running it properly would be even harder. There was a storm coming, she knew not from where, but it would be smarter to weather the storm than to try and run from it this time. And if this coming storm were to place Anna under threat, it would quickly learn that Elsa could fight, and that she would sooner die than see Anna hurt again.

"Can you help me get ready for breakfast?" Elsa changed the subject to something easier to talk about.

"I'll even show you how to cook it."

"It really was terrible, wasn't it?"

"No—okay, yes, it kinda was. But, I mean, I've done worse. Like way worse—you remember the 'partridge fiasco' a few years back?"

"Really?" Elsa asked, incredulous, as Anna helped move her from the bed. "You managed that?"

"It was an accident, okay. I swear somebody rearranged the kitchen overnight. I mean, I just wanted a little something to eat, so I thought I'd grab a leg, then one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know I'm wearing the stupid thing and the dogs are barking through the kitchen. The horse was a surprise. I mean had just been riding, but I hitched his reigns properly and everything and—"

"Anna?"

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

Elsa laughed at her sister's tragically chagrined expression. "Anna," she spoke softly. "Don't ever change."

"Like you could make me," Anna poked her tongue out at her sister.

After taking care of her morning routines, Elsa sat on the floor, taking the time to fold her legs into an appropriately regal posture. Anna sat behind her, running a brush through Elsa's platinum tresses. Doing things like this with only one hand was challenging, but not impossible. It also let her experience some level of physical contact with her sister in a perfectly innocent way. It also reminded her of how they'd done this so long ago. Light shone against the clasp of small chest next to her wardrobe, and Anna remembered something from not quite so long ago.

Gently setting the brush aside, Anna rose, placing her hand on Elsa's shoulder to still her. Flicking open the catch on the chest, Anna looked over the treasures within. Not gold, or jewels, or even little fancies. Not even a secret cache of chocolates. Scraps of paper. Scraps of paper with small, neatly penned words on them. Scraps of paper with meticulous drawings, coloured with a little less precision. At the very bottom were three birthday cards, handmade, and very crude. Anna quietly took the box and sat in front of her sister, copying her cross-legged position. Anna withdrew the top sheet of paper.

On that sheet was a drawing of her, wearing a knight's helmet, tilting a lance, and riding a bicycle. Little lines showed her braids flying out behind her. It wasn't perfect—even at twelve Elsa had not been an artist. But she tried, and the effect was finely drawn picture, with a few extra lines, and some colour spilling out here and there. The best part of the drawing, to Anna, at any rate, was not the illustration of her, or the incredibly detailed door she was charging. The best part was that Elsa had made it. It was not the last thing they had shared, but it was close.

"You kept that?" Elsa asked, breathless with wonder.

"It was always my favourite," Anna replied, smiling, showing her sister the contents of the small chest. "I kept everything. It was all I had left of you after you shut me out."

Elsa was amazed that her sister would keep any one of those things. To have kept all of them… and her reason for keeping all of them… Elsa felt a weight crushing her from within. Thirteen years. Thirteen years as sisters, shut away from each other, and despite all Anna's attempts to reach out and connect, _this_ was all she had to show for it? This time there were no elegant speeches. No heartfelt apologies. Elsa wished she could beg for her sister's forgiveness—forgiveness she never deserved. But her throat was too tight, and the words wouldn't come.

She saw her reflection in those beautiful blue-green eyes in front of her. Elsa saw her sister connecting all the dots as to what was making her sad this time. People might accuse Anna of being air-headed and scatterbrained, but Elsa knew better. Underneath all that energy, simmering behind the lack of a brain-mouth filter, her sister was one of the most perceptive people she knew—but seemingly only when it came it to her. Elsa didn't bother trying to hide her tears; Anna would know anyway. And would think of her as being bigger and braver for showing that emotion openly rather than trying to conceal it again.

"I should have been there for you!" Elsa slammed her fist against the floorboards, the carpet failing to soften the blow. "I should have tried being a real sister, not… I should have spent more time with you Anna. Especially after…oh, god, I remember that night… I thought I was seeing things, a lonely girl on a tower. I thought I was dreaming—that maybe I was seeing what I really should do and then–then the moon shone bright on your face. I–did I? I–I waved to you; do you remember?"

"I waved back," Anna smiled through her own tears, embracing her sister. "I waved back and you must have frozen your window in shock—I mean, I had no idea then, I just thought you were too close to the glass and it was kind of a cold night and—and I'm rambling again, but you knew? You knew it was me?"

"Once I saw your hair. No one else in the castle has that colour hair. I know what you were thinking of doing Anna—no, don't apologize to me yet—I know because I'd nearly done the same thing just after papa left with mom on the ship—just before…" Elsa sighed, closing her eyes, remembering. "I thought if it happened while they were away it wouldn't hurt them so much. They wouldn't be so sad. They'd still have you, and they could raise you as the amazing Queen you were always going to be."

Elsa gently pushed her sister away; she hated talking about this, with anyone. Mostly because she never had, except for one heartfelt night where she hadn't talked, but where Kai had taken her aside and gently explained how badly Arendelle needed its Princess. Needed both Princesses. The loyal servant had then explained about a promise he had made to the king. A promise to always keep his daughters safe, no matter what. Elsa felt a hand under her chin, raising her eyes to meet her sister's gaze. Elsa averted her eyes, but a flicker of something caused her to look up, and then she could no longer look away. Anna held her gaze for a very long time.

"You really thought about that, didn't you." It wasn't really a question. Elsa took the honesty in that voice at face value, sighing heavily before she replied, tears silently cascading down her cheeks.

"I did, Anna. I made plans. I thought of lots of ways I could do that. I nearly did—more than once. I thought everyone would be happy when I was gone. I thought everything could go back to normal—no more magic. No more monsters hidden behind that door. I figured people would be sad for a little while, but then they'd forget me. They never saw me anyway, so what difference would it make if I really was gone? But I was stupid, and selfish, because I thought I'd be making you happy. I didn't think about how you might get sad if I was… if I was dead. I never thought about that. I just thought about how happy you would be if you could play with mom again, if you could bring friends to the castle. I never even thought about how much I would hurt you by trying _not_ to hurt you anymore. I was just a stupid, selfish little girl. Anna… I…"

"You don't have to say anything Elsa," Anna wrapped her sister in a heartfelt embrace. "I understand—well, I kinda think I understand—but I… okay, I don't understand. But I love you anyway. I still do. I know this must have been so hard for you talk about, Elsa. I'm proud of you. I really am. I wish mom and dad could see you now. Could see us together as sisters."

"So do I," Elsa choked back. "They would be so proud of you feistypants. So very proud."

"I–I'm not sure they'd like you calling me names."

"You earned that one. You should be proud of it, and it's so… you," Elsa toppled sideways as she tried to both gesture at all of Anna and leave their embrace. Anna landed next to her with a soft thud.

"No matter what anyone says, you're not the Ice Queen. I've seen the fire that burns inside your heart, and there's no hiding it anymore. You're not cold, and sorrow, and distance. You never were. You're warmth, and love, and protection. Oh, and scary. You're scary when you're angry, gotta throw that in there."

"Oh, you have to throw that in there, do you?" Elsa asked with a mischievous grin. Anna nodded, closing her eyes for a second. When she opened them, she didn't see Elsa's face. It was Marshmallow's head, smiling at her. Her scream couldn't quite cover the giggling coming from beneath the snow. She held her arm out in panic as the mouth opened and started to engulf her. The snow suddenly fell apart, showering both sisters as Elsa was unable to control her laughter any longer. Everything was dusted with snow. Even the Anna-ice statue.

"What should we do with her?" Anna jerked her thumb towards the statue.

"I can tell you what I'd _like_ to do to her," Elsa leaned closer and whispered something in Anna's ear.

"Elsa!"

"What?" Elsa's eyes might have looked innocent. Her grin was anything but.

"She's a lady," Anna protested, rising to stand between Elsa and the statue. "She'd never do that, right?" Anna cocked her head, pretending to hear the statue talk. Her eyes went wide. "I take it back. Apparently with enough wine, and some candles, she would. You're a very naughty ice-statue, you know that?"

The statue denied nothing.


	29. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section, from chapter 29, up to chapter 38, was my first attempt at weaving multiple simultaneous arcs into the story, rather than simply using interconnecting one-shots. At the end of it I'm still not sure if it was successful because of its dark themes, or in spite of them.

**Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Themes, Graphic Violence, Death**

* * *

Olaf was cheerful. Too cheerful for a lot of people, but that morning, at breakfast, he was the perfect antidote to what the sisters had been discussing—and were still discussing.

"What I don't get," Anna said around a mouthful of toast. "Is how Gerda knew. I mean, I just thought of doing that after the funeral, and… Elsa?"

"What did Gerda know? Why was there a funeral?" Olaf asked, but found himself ignored.

"I told her," Elsa confessed. "After what I'd tried to do, I was afraid losing mom and papa would push you over the edge. Everything in your voice, just… when you finished that song, that… song, it—well, it scared me, the way you sang it then. So when you left my door, I moved. I moved for the first time in two days. I couldn't lose you. I could never tell you back then, but I couldn't lose you. So I asked Gerda to 'watch over you', as Kai did for me when I–when I tried doing that."

"Wait, you guys are singers too?" Olaf asked, looking between the sisters, trying to figure out what they were talking about. It was probably something about love. "Wait, scary songs? Did you try singing scary songs, is that why Kai had to watch you? In case you got scared?"

Elsa smiled down at her inadvertent creation. "Yes, Olaf, Anna can sing. The song wasn't scary, it was sad."

"Oh," Olaf dragged the word out as if it explained everything. "So when you got sad because of Anna's singing, you tried running away, but Kai made you stay?"

'Running away' Elsa mouthed to her sister, giving Anna a little frown. Anna understood the message well enough—Olaf was too pure and innocent to have to learn about such things.

"No, Olaf," Anna explained gently. "After our parents died, I thought about running away. Elsa stopped me. Well, she didn't catch me. I just saw how sad and lonely she was."

"But she's not sad and lonely now, she's got us!" It took Olaf a moment to process the rest of Anna's statement. "But why would seeing how sad and lonely Elsa was stop you from running away?"

"Because I loved her. I didn't want to see her hurt—even if it hurt me. I used to think she hated me—that that was why she shut me out."

"But Elsa can't hate anyone. She's too nice to hate people. Ooooh, but Marshmallow doesn't really like people, so maybe that's where it went. I'm sure we can figure it out. Anyone need a hug?"

Elsa rolled her chair around the end of the table. Anna dropped to one knee, extending her arm. Olaf looked torn, then a wink from Elsa sent him rushing over to Anna first. After a warm, if somewhat knobbly hug, Anna gestured for Olaf to move on to her sister. The little snowman obliged, jumping into Elsa's lap before she could react and wrapping his arms around as much of her and her chair as was possible. Elsa smiled at her sister, Anna smiled back, shuffling a little closer.

"Stop hogging the snowman."

"Hey, I made him."

"Hey, if we move closer I can hug everyone. Come on, closer, I wanna hug all of you now."

Anna wrapped her arm around Olaf and Elsa, kneeling so that there wasn't such a difference in height between them. All three of them spent several moments in blissful silence before Elsa eventually pulled away. She was glad for Olaf and Anna's presence that morning, they helped ground her, to remind her that it was the present moment that was important, not what she'd done in the past, and not what she was worrying about for the future. Of course those fears still played on her, but with her sister and the eternally upbeat snowman they had a much harder time taking root.

Elsa was glad her sister hadn't asked how Kai knew to stop her. That was the kind of confession that was just too painful to admit right now. It was the kind of confession where those listening and not already sitting in wheelchairs would need a chair in short order. Kai had dutifully hidden the evidence—she hadn't asked him to, but he knew what needed to be done. Elsa had a feeling he'd probably kept it safe, locked up somewhere no prying eyes could ever chance upon it. It had taken her a long time to write that note out. She'd had it prepared for some time, but that two week trip to Corona her parents took seemed like the perfect opportunity to actually go through with it. It wouldn't have been the first time she tried something like that either.

* * *

All her previous attempts had been thwarted because she'd either been seen leaving her room, or she'd been seen wandering the castle, or even because she'd suddenly had thoughts of Anna—those were always the worst ones, because they drove her to the edge of despair. It wasn't fair to keep hurting Anna like that. To fight those feelings, she'd written the note. She apologized for everything; explained how the kingdom would be better off; said a last goodbye, and finally left all of her things—few as they were—to Anna. She thought she'd been prepared for what she was about to do. She resolved to face her fate with head held high, but her old fears still played on her mind.

Elsa didn't know when Kai had found the note, possibly only minutes after she'd left her room. Maybe longer, she couldn't be sure, and neither could he. Somehow he knew where she would be. Kai had explained that it was just a feeling, something pulling him towards that tower—then he saw the rime ice covering the walls. The frost across the carpets. The icicles growing from the walls. As one of the few remaining servants he had known about Elsa's powers, the king had said nothing about them, but Kai had managed to put everything together some time earlier, and when he had asked the king about this, everything had been revealed. The king said if Kai had managed to discover that much on his own, he deserved to know the whole story. The king had even given him the chance to leave, no questions asked. Kai refused; his duty was to the royal family—the whole royal family. The king had merely smiled, then picked up the book he had been reading once more.

When Kai managed to break the ice on the doors to the outside of the tower Elsa had been standing just shy of the edge, looking down into the courtyard below. It was definitely high enough to work. She hoped it wouldn't hurt too much—then scolded herself for thinking that. After how much she'd hurt Anna, she deserved to hurt at least once before leaving this world forever. She shuffled closer to the edge, turning around so maybe when she fell the last thing she remembered would be the beauty of the evening sky. She never expected to see Kai standing there. She never expected to see anyone there, in fact, and the shock nearly caused her to stumble over the edge. Her hands shot out instinctively, grabbing the crenellations to either side of her.

Kai had said nothing to her at first. He'd simply extended a hand towards her. Neither of them moved. Elsa was afraid if she took that hand it would change everything between them. It would change how he saw the Crown Princess. She was afraid that if she didn't take that hand that he would blame himself for what she was about to do. Slowly, carefully, Elsa used her arms to pull herself forward, getting her feet under her. She took a step away from the edge. Another. She managed one last step before she collapsed into a heap. She heard Kai exhale in relief.

When Kai spoke, it had been a quiet prayer, thanking the Divine that he'd managed to make it to the tower in time. Thanking Him for showing him the way. Thanking Him for making it so that he wouldn't have explain this strange loss to young Princess Anna. That had changed something deep within Elsa, a sense of loneliness that had cleft her heart in twain so very long ago. Kai had very quietly asked what would have happened if Princess Anna had seen her fall; if she'd seen… the end. Crawling to the edge of the tower, feeling Kai put a restraining hand on her shoulder, she looked out over the courtyard again. In one window, not that far from the tower, a young girl with fiery hair was practicing her dancing.

Elsa crawled back from the edge, finally noticing the snow falling around the tower. Finally noticing that Kai seemed completely unperturbed by it, only occasionally brushing snow from the shoulders of his jacket. It was early autumn, no time for snow, but he was unafraid—Elsa was fascinated. Kai offered his hand once more, but Elsa brushed it away. She needed to go back to her room. She had to atone for this—how could she have forgotten where Anna was going to be? Or had she? Had she secretly wanted Anna to see, to know that she wouldn't have to be afraid anymore? How could she have wanted that? Elsa was so ashamed of herself that she couldn't hide the tears. She couldn't conceal it—not this time.

Kai had escorted her silently through the castle, choosing each passage carefully, avoiding anyone seeing the Crown Princess. When they arrived back at her room, Kai had wordlessly opened the door, making sure no one else was around before he whispered something to Princess Elsa.

"I know. You father told me. I swore an oath to protect you and Princess Anna, your highness. I do that to the best of my ability every day. I'll do it even if it means protecting you from yourself. Please don't hurt yourself, your highness. It won't be too long before your parents are home—I will not tell them, if you promise to speak with them for me. I will pray for you, the Divine will keep you safe, and so will I. If you need me, I will never be far."

There were no words. Elsa simply didn't know how to express her gratitude. It was such a foreign concept, someone being nice to her. Helping her. Someone unafraid of her powers—although he'd never seen what they could really do. There were no words, so Elsa just stared silently at the floor, hugging her arms until she heard the door close. The lock made a satisfying click.

"Good night, Princess Elsa," Elsa heard Kai whisper from the far side of the door. "May the Divine protect you, always."

He was trying to keep her safe. Elsa remembered curling up under the covers, not bothering to change. And after Kai had left, the Crown Princess of Arendelle had cried herself to sleep. She had no idea of the news she would receive in three days time. For now, she was just eighteen, barely beginning her life. Eighteen, and for ten years she'd never talked to her sister. Eighteen, and she was prepared to hurt her parents like that. Eighteen, and she'd been prepared to throw everything away, in a stupid attempt to protect Anna. Some sister she was. The nightmares that came that night weren't of hurting Anna with her magic. They were of her own death, falling through the night, her ruined body lying in the courtyard, and Anna always being the first to find it. Elsa's ghost tried to explain herself, tried wishing it undone, but no one listened. And in all those nightmares, after seeing Elsa's body broken and lifeless on the ground, Anna had started climbing, climbing to the very top of the castle, stepping out onto the landing, taking one final step. Into the abyss. Elsa had been forced to watch, unable to ever look away. Anna's body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and no matter how much she scrunched her eyes closed, the picture wouldn't go away.

Anna, fifteen years old. Anna, so bright and cheerful and playful. Anna, her own sister, lying there in the courtyard. Limbs twisted and broken, blood matting her fiery hair and pooling beneath her head. White spears of bone. Elsa couldn't look away. Anna's face was the only uninjured part of her body, but even that was wrong. Eyes of simmering turquoise, that burned so bright in life—they were empty. Motionless. Still as water on a windless day. Elsa blinked, tears staining her cheeks. It wasn't enough to bring Anna back. Nothing ever was. And in the distance, Elsa saw her own broken body, and she knew it was all her fault.

* * *

"Elsa?" a small, concerned voice cut into the dream. An impossible voice. It sounded like an angel. "Elsa, are you okay?"

Elsa blinked slowly. She was in the castle. The breakfast hall. She was sitting in something made of ice. A chair—her wheelchair. She hyperventilated a few times before drawing in to herself, rediscovering everything she now was. The memory of _that_ dream had been incredibly jarring. She was still left with a visceral sense of anguish and horror.

"I–I got lost in my memories again Anna, I'm sorry," Elsa took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was a bad one."

"Is–is that why you're crying?" Anna was kneeling down in front of her now, looking for a sign that the new Elsa was still in there somewhere.

"I'm crying?" Elsa pressed her fingers against her cheeks, feeling dampness there. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. "I guess I am. It was a sad memory, about 'running away'—I had nightmares about it. Nightmares that you'd try and 'run away' too. I was afraid you'd be like me. I–I'd like—C-can we talk about it… later?"

"Later," Anna nodded, wiping away the last of Elsa's tears. "And if you don't want to talk about it then, I'll understand. I won't push, I promise. I know how hard it was talking about this earlier."

"Oh, look, pancakes!" Confused and disoriented at Olaf's exclamation, the sisters turned to see a cook walk in with one plate piled high pancakes and another plate used to carry several small jars of jams and preserves. Anna licked her lips, quickly figuring out how many of those delicious pancakes she could get away with eating before anyone else made a grab for them. The fact that the 'anyone else' in question was Elsa made no difference. Elsa noticed her sister's hungry eyes upon the stack of pancakes and Elsa wondered if she'd ever looked at her sister like that—the hunger in Anna's eyes was slightly unsettling.

"So, he's going to be a _houskarl_?" Anna spoke around an overly large mouthful of pancake.

"Manners, Anna. And yes, he is. It's a little more than that—you know how sometimes you, uh, 'help' me?"

Anna nodded understandingly, swallowing her mouthful.

"Hank's going to have to do that sometimes. I don't think I'm going to like explaining it to him though—and I can see where it might cause problems. Rumours will probably be started by the less scrupulous, but you and I know the truth—and so will he."

"Don't you think that's like, asking really a lot of him, and not giving him much back. I mean, yeah, I see why, but being your _houskarl_ , you should make him feel like he's the very best there is. Like no one could replace him at it. It's great you can be together—I mean, as friends, and—I mean go for it—wait, what?"

Elsa laughed softly. "You really do want to see me with Hank, don't you, feistypants?"

"You'd make a cute couple, plus, I bet he dances good enough for two people. I mean, you told me you don't dance—I guess that's very true now—but it would be nice to waltz sometime, wouldn't it? Oh, oh, and I need Kai this morning—I just had a great idea about legs and stuff, and I wanna see if it works," Anna frowned in a moment of indecision. "Actually, maybe I better talk to the craftsmen, they could help me make something."

"Anna, I admire your energy, but why don't you take a day off from bouncing around everywhere and getting underfoot—yes, I've heard 'stories' from certain people. Come on, don't look at me like that, go out, have fun in the town maybe—go see Kristoff, you owe him an afternoon don't you?"

"I do… maybe I should go into town for a while. You're sure you'll be alright while I'm gone?"

"I'll try to be, Anna, I really will. Be safe out there—take captain Ragnar if you have to."

"He never takes that armour off—I swear he must sleep in it, then polish it in the bathroom or something. Wait… Elsa, are you saying it really isn't safe for us to go alone through town now?" Anna's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the realization. "Maybe I should just invite Kristoff here. It'd be safer."

"I–I want to agree with you Anna, but please don't limit yourself for my sake. If you feel safe enough, go with Kristoff. If not, he's always welcome here."

"Hey, couldn't I make Kristoff my bodyguard?"

"What, on top of being official Ice Master and Deliverer, _and_ your boyfriend?"

"Sure, why not?" Anna couldn't see anything wrong with her plan. "I mean, if he's my boyfriend, he's supposed to protect me, right?"

"If he had to sacrifice himself to save you, would he do it?"

"He already has. Twice."

"Okay, would _you_ let him do it?"

"Oh," it was then that Anna finally saw the flaw in her brilliant plan. A bodyguard had to be willing to give up his life to protect his ward. His ward had to be able to accept that. She couldn't try and stop him—ever. Even if she really did like him. Which made Anna wonder about just how much her sister really liked Hank. For once her mouth obeyed and she didn't ask the most insensitive question she could think of. Elsa had probably already thought of it anyway, otherwise she wouldn't be pointing it out to Anna. That had to be it.

"I'm still talking to the craftsmen," Anna informed her sister. "Then I'll find Kristoff and give him an afternoon he'll never forget."

Elsa cradled her head in one hand. "Please tell me you didn't just say that."

"Say what?" Anna smiled sweetly, giving her sister a little wink. It was, in all honesty, the most terrifying expression Elsa had ever seen on her face. She shuddered involuntarily, already imagining a large number of things that they could be doing. Before her imagination went too far, Elsa tried to remember where the best wines were. There was a certain mental image of two close friends that she needed out of her head. Immediately.

* * *

The noonday sun saw Anna and Kristoff once more making their way towards the forest. The heartwood, not the border forest, Anna had to remind herself. No need to scare half the country like that again. It felt silly to have had so many men looking for her—her and Elsa—but they were the current ruler of the kingdom, and the sole possible inheritor of that title. Now that fact—one Anna had long ago set aside in her head—was painting a very large target on both her and Elsa. She thought Elsa was being overly cautious, but had found captain Ragnar before leaving anyway. Kristoff had objected to the captain's presence, but Anna had talked him into grudgingly accepting the captain for the ride.

There was a sudden twang, and solid thud of metal against wood. Anna whipped sideways to see a crossbow bolt embedded in the flank of the sled. Then the whole world erupted into fire and smoke, and splinters were flying in every direction. Upside down, dazed and confused, Anna watched as Sven bolted towards the woods. The rear of his harness had been shredded by the blast, but he looked fine as he galloped into the distance.

Pieces of debris were still raining down around them, and it took Anna a moment to realize that she was no longer in the sled. The blast had thrown her several yards, and the back of her dress had somehow been torn to shreds by the dirt path. Staggering to her feet, she looked around in vain, trying to find Kristoff, or captain Ragnar. Anyone. She heard a cough from beneath a pile of wooden planks, and was using her legs to gain leverage as she wrenched at the pile with one arm.

"Stand back!" came a gruff voice beneath the pile. Ragnar. Anna stood aside and the pile of scraps virtually exploded into the air, the guard captain drawing his sword as he rose. "Princess Anna, get behind me."

Anna took a moment to look around before she complied. She saw Kristoff stir amongst the ruins of his sled—and half buried by the dirt that had somehow erupted around them. Two dozen men crested the nearest ridge, and as Anna turned to run, she saw half a dozen more climbing over a low hill there too. They could try running along the road, but now she wasn't sure what kind of traps might have been placed there.

"Captain Ragnar, your dagger?" Anna held out her hand to the guard captain. When he hesitated she continued. "I don't care who they are. They attacked us. I will not stand here like a defenseless little girl. Give. Me. Your. Dagger."

The weight of the weapon felt good to Anna. She was afraid, she'd never fought like this in her life. Even play-fighting the guards had never been like this. They'd only ever ganged up on her in threes or fours. Here she was facing down almost a score. They had swords. Armour. _Crossbows_. They were so close, moving purposefully towards her. Ragnar held his ground a moment longer, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Ragnar fell to one knee, three crossbow bolts piercing the air where he once stood. It was a trick he could only use once, and he was already fighting beyond the level of these marauders. His blade swept clean through the leg of the man in front of him, barely skipping against the bone. As the man fell Ragnar rose, driving his sword through the man's throat. Spinning sideways, Ragnar managed to draw his poignard to parry a high strike from one of the raiders while his broadsword bound against another.

A flick of his wrist and a quick step to his right allowed Ragnar to disengage his poignard and stab it through the neck of the man in front of him, skipping off his armour's gorget. Ragnar had no time to think about how and where raiders had managed to acquire fine quality cuirasses like these. All he had time to do was kill these men in order to clear a path for Princess Anna to escape. Kicking the dying raider away from him, Ragnar turned, leading with his blade.

He was met by another swordsman with a wicked grin and dark sideburns. There was a flurry of blows between them as Ragnar sought an opening, then, feigning a stumble, he turned and shoved his blade through the side of the raider's armour, just beneath his armpit. The tip of his sword emerged from the raider's neck. He felt something slice at his leg, and then something slammed into his back with enough force to drive him to the ground. Blackness threatened to consume him.

One of the raiders above him was preparing to plunge his blade through Ragnar's chest. The guard captain rolled aside, feeling something snap against his back as he did so. There was sudden moment of vertigo as he rose, and Ragnar saw the tip of the bodkin protruding from his chest. The bolt had gone clean through him. He heard Princess Anna's scream of terror, and a black rage filled him. How dare these bastards try and harm a Royal Princess of Arendelle.

His sword carved through the raider's breastplate as if it were nothing. Only then did Ragnar see the makers mark. Only then did he see the crest emblazoned against the bevor. A gods-damned weasel. With a cry of inarticulate rage captain Ragnar launched himself at the nearest of the Weseltonian soldiers. Such treachery could never go unpunished. The first soldier lost an arm trying to parry. Then his hand, and half the crossbow it had been holding. And suddenly Ragnar's poignard was buried hilt-deep in his chest.

There were still too many, and the crossbows were reloading. Ragnar charged the nearest soldier, exchanging a dozen blows in half as many seconds. A high strike met a middle guard, and a low thrust with the poignard was countered with an artful sidestep. Ragnar punched the man in the face, the basket hilt of his broadsword greatly increasing the effectiveness of the blow. As the Weseltonian soldier staggered back, Ragnar kicked him in the groin. There were rules when fighting—but other rules applied when saving the life of a future monarch. His poignard opened the man's throat while his broadsword bound and circled another Weseltonian blade.

A second blade slashed down his left arm, cold steel drawing blood. Ragnar grunted in pain, dropping the poignard. The soldier in front of him kicked out, but Ragnar rolled with the blow, growling as his injured arm caught against something. He parried furiously as both soldiers closed on him. A massive blow to the stomach caused him to look down. A bolt was embedded up to the quills in his armour. Ragnar fell to one knee, turning aside a blow aimed for his head, managing to slash open the other man's leg with the same movement.

That soldier stumbled, and Ragnar cracked the man's jaw against his knee. Then he drove his sword through the man's back. He heard a woman beside him scream, and an instant later the other soldier collapsed in a heap, Ragnar's dagger sticking out of the back of his neck. Ragnar couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Neither could Princess Anna, apparently, because she chose that moment to collapse beside him, panicking about killing someone and apologizing profusely to any gods that might have been listening.

Another Weseltonian soldier approached, ready to grab the Royal Princess. But Ragnar wasn't dead yet, and he would sooner die than see the Princess hurt. With a massive effort he stood, wavering on his feet, and stepped between the Princess and the soldier. The soldier raised his sword, preparing to run the palace guard clean through. Ragnar parried with his injured arm, feeling the blade bite deep against his wrist—but it was out of line, and the Weseltonian soldier had no time left to react. Blood sprayed across Ragnar's face as the Weseltonian soldier's head hit the ground with a dull thud.

Anna screamed, and fainted. She never saw what became of captain Ragnar. Kristoff did. The captain of the palace guard stood, bleeding from a dozen wounds, and even as another crossbow bolt slammed into his chest, he charged. Two more of the Weseltonian soldiers fell to Ragnar's blade before he died. The captain of the guard fell without ceremony, impaled from behind by a Weseltonian sword.

* * *

Satisfied Ragnar was no longer a threat, the soldiers bound Anna and dragged her away over the eastern hill. The rearguard from the far hill top—obviously intended to cut off any retreat by Anna's party—crossed the field of battle a few minutes later. One of them stopped to take Ragnar's Poignard from where the captain had dropped it. Kristoff watched in silent disgust, and hated himself for it. He really did care about Anna, but even though he'd wanted to, he couldn't have done anything about it.

The first reason for that was that he was no soldier, and ten to one were bad odds no matter who was fighting. The second, and more terrifying reason was because one of those first crossbow bolts—the ones that had missed Ragnar—was currently pinning his right arm to the side of the sled. It had barely missed the bone, but Kristoff still saw a lot of blood coming from that wound. Biting back a scream of pain, Kristoff took hold of the bolt and tried pulling it from the side of the sled. No use. He tried gently levering the bolt sideways, but the pain was too much and he very nearly blacked out. There was only one option left.

Kristoff closed his eyes, counting to three. His whole body wrenched forwards, tearing his arm free, over the tail of bolt. He felt feathers and splinters grate against muscle and sinew inside his arm. Then he did black out. It couldn't have been for too long, because when Kristoff looked up at the sky once more the sun hadn't significantly changed its position. His satchel had bandages in it. Kristoff found it buried in the rubble of his sled—what the hell had those bandits used to do that? There were bigger problems, of course, like finding Sven… although seeing as he'd run into the heartwood, their family might find him. He would be safe for now. But Anna.

Kristoff's face fell. Elsa—I have to tell Elsa; it'll destroy her. No, they kidnapped Anna, she's alive, so they must want her for something… think you idiot, think, why would anyone want to kidnap… oh no. They did it to control Elsa. It has to be that… but they've never seen Elsa angry, and… Kristoff's train of thought ground to a screeching halt, refusing to budge beyond that point. An Elsa driven to the edge of despair, or worse, to the limits of her anger, would spell doom for everyone. Unless… unless Anna was safe. Anna was the key. Kristoff swore—and not just because he'd managed to cinch the bandage too tight.

Passing Ragnar's body, Kristoff took note of the crest on the fallen soldiers around him. A black weasel, on a gold background. It had to mean something to Elsa. The ice harvester carefully rolled captain Ragnar over, closing his eyes as a rite of passing. He felt he had to say a few words, to mark the death of someone who had apparently been a great man.

"You were a man like everyone else. You were a soldier; captain of the palace guard. You gave your life to protect the most important person in the world. You were a hero, and you weren't afraid to die."

Placing the captain's broadsword in his hand, Kristoff gently placed the captain's hand against his breastplate, sword pointing to his feet. It was one lasting image Kristoff remembered from the time he'd visited a tomb in a nearby town. A battle had taken place in the town hundreds of years ago, and the knights who fought and died had been immortalized on their stone caskets. Kristoff thought it right that captain Ragnar should have an end that dignified.

* * *

Several hours later a dejected and quite frankly terrified Kristoff made his way into the castle. Kai rushed to his side as soon as he noticed the ice harvester.

"Elsa," He coughed to the royal servant. "Must talk… to Elsa."

"At once, master Bjorgman," Kai lifted Kristoff's uninjured arm over his shoulders and wrapped his own right arm across Kristoff's back. The loyal servant supported Kristoff as best he could while they made their way to Elsa's study. He told Kai nothing—Elsa had to know first. She had to, it was _her_ sister.

"Kristoff?" Elsa could see he was injured, and exhausted. They were not the kind of injuries or exhaustion playing with Anna normally caused. The crude bandage around his right arm was a giveaway that something very, very bad had happened. Elsa stopped immediately, trying to damp down her emotions. She had just realized that Kristoff had returned—without Anna. His injuries looked like they were from fighting, not playing. There was a look in his eyes, a cast to his exhausted features. Captain Ragnar was also missing. Elsa thought she hadn't cared about the palace guard that strongly. Then again, old captain Ragnar had given her and Anna piggyback rides on his armoured shoulders many times when they were younger… before…

Kristoff saw it happening before he spoke. Snow was beginning to build up against the walls. Snowflakes hung lazily in the air. The high window at the back of the room had frosted over. Rime ice coated the ceiling. Elsa's desk was taking on a definite sheen as she braced her hands against the dark wood. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to hear. Her calm centre was _gone_.

"It was an ambush," Kristoff explained quickly. "They hid something beneath the path, it exploded when the sled touched it. No more sled—I'm sorry Elsa, I know your craftsmen worked hard on that for me."

"I don't care about your goddamn sled!" Elsa choked out, tears already staining her cheeks. "Just tell me about Anna! NOW!"

"They took her. Whoever it was, They knew where we would be," Kristoff shivered as the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees. Ice covered all the walls, and snow built up in deeper and deeper layers across the floor. "Captain Ragnar tried to fight them off, but there were just so many. Too many. The first shot missed him and pinned me to my sled—I wanted to help, but I couldn't. Ragnar stood his ground until the end."

"Anna!" spikes of ice erupted from the desk. "Just… just tell me. Anna?"

"They took her. I think she fainted when captain Ragnar cut a man down right in front of her—"

"He what?!" the ice around the room had taken on a sinister red glow. Kai was struggling to hold the door to the study open.

"They had this on them," Kristoff threw the emblem he had managed to prise from one soldier's armour onto Elsa's desk. "The men who kidnapped Anna."

Elsa took a deep, unsteady breath before she could speak again. A second breath. All her pain and sadness filled the next word she said. "Leave."

Kristoff ran for the door, nearly tackling Kai as he stumbled through. The servant slammed the door shut and fell against the wall. But it wasn't over. The scream that echoed through castle was barely human. Rage, despair, hatred, and regret were a powerful mix. The room behind them rumbled with power, and Kristoff felt the entire castle shake with sound of a thousand windows shattering in unison. Silence reigned for a long, long time after that.

Eventually, Elsa managed to open the door. Through the gap Kai and Kristoff saw that the room had been utterly destroyed. Pieces of glass littered the floor. Gold fixtures were warped and fallen across the floor. The carpet was shredded. The walls were scoured clean, the brickwork exposed in places. Elsa's desk, her father's grand desk, was just gone. Not even splinters remained. Elsa's breathing remained ragged, and she looked around as if in a stupor. She was hugging herself tightly, and her eyes passed right through the two men in front of her office door. She didn't know them, nor did she want to. There was only one thing she wanted right now. One thing forever denied her. With a ragged breath it escaped her lips, and she fell into a endless realm of darkness.

"Anna…"


	30. Gathering Storm

**Trigger Warnings: Violence, Non-consensual Touching**

* * *

Elsa's nightmare was real. It had finally happened—she was being punished for all those past transgressions against her sister. Anna had been taken from her, it didn't matter by who anymore. The only thing that mattered was that Anna was gone, and Elsa wanted her back. Trails of frost coated the floor behind her chair as Elsa wheeled herself unthinkingly around the second floor. For so long Anna had been just outside her grasp; for so long Anna had tried to break down the walls inside her heart—she'd succeeded. And now, through no fault of her own, she had managed to wound Elsa deeper than any mortal blow.

Snow was drifting along the halls of the second floor as both Kai and Kristoff followed Elsa at a respectful distance. A safe distance, just in case she lost control once more. They both knew she'd barely had enough time to warn them in her study.

When Elsa finally came to the door she wanted, she froze. Could she face what was in this room? Right now? Steeling herself against those emotions, Elsa reached out and turned the handle. Inside it was just as messy as ever. It took Elsa a long time to realize that Gerda hadn't been in to clean the room yet. She couldn't even bring herself to be annoyed at the mess—it was so… Anna. Elsa felt a spike of fear that she might never get to admonish Anna for being so messy again. The fear broke into shards of glittering agony, and Elsa remembered the past few weeks with her sister. Everything had been going so well. The walls between them were slowly getting torn down. Elsa had even dared to believe that she might be able to love another person. Anna had been showing her the way, slowly but surely, with unwavering courage and unflagging determination.

Elsa knew she didn't deserve someone that good in her life. Now in a cruel twist of fate it seemed that the universe finally agreed with her. A life without Anna—she wouldn't let herself think like that. Anna would be back. Elsa would find her. Somehow. But for now all Elsa could see was the massive Anna-shaped void that had been torn through her soul. It was a great emptiness, and nothing she could do would ever fill it.

She felt her hands brush against something soft and slightly warm. It was the slip Anna had worn the previous night, the one she'd carelessly thrown aside getting dressed in the morning. A fog settled over Elsa's mind, and she gently inhaled Anna's scent, still lingering on the thin fabric. With a gargantuan effort Elsa was able to put the slip down, on the bed, and somehow drag herself onto the covers. Taking the slip in one hand, Elsa clawed her way to the head of the bed with her other hand, silent tears staining the sheets. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They had earned their happy ending—but the story of their lives marched ever onwards. Elsa curled up into a ball, or at least tried to, her legs not obeying her. She figured it was probably her body shutting down, so numb with shock and loss that she'd lost control of her legs.

Cautiously entering the room, the first thing Kai saw was the icy statue of Princess Anna. It seemed like a very bad sign, as if the Queen was treating this loss like Anna was dead, not merely missing, presumed kidnapped. He wished there were something he could to do ease his liege's suffering. There was, and after softly draping a blanket over the Queen, he left the room.

"Master Bjorgman," he nodded to the ice harvester. "Watch over her, please."

Not knowing what to say, Kristoff could only nod, quietly taking a chair from the far side of the room. It seemed appropriate he had to remove several items of clothing, a hairbrush, and something else—he wasn't sure what, actually—from the chair. It made sense that Anna's room would be just as disorganized as her thoughts normally were. Setting the chair beside the bed, Kristoff sat heavily, cradling his head in his hands. His right arm still ached, but that was nothing compared to the ache deep within his heart. The pain quickly turned to anger, at the soldiers for ambushing them, at Anna for not running like a sensible person, at Ragnar for dying in vain, and finally, at himself. Anger at himself for not fighting to protect Anna. Logic dictated that there was nothing he could have done, not while he'd been pinned to the sled, but that still didn't make him feel any better.

"I should have done something!" he fumed, _sotto voce_ , thumping his fist against his thigh. "Anything. I should have protected her damn it!"

His voice became a tortured whisper. "I _should_ have… I _failed_ …"

Elsa stirred, restless in her sleep, but she didn't wake. Kristoff was glad for that—he didn't want to have to explain what had happened ever again. Not again, not after seeing Elsa's reaction the first time. Someone else entered the room, and Kristoff looked up, expecting Kai. It was a man he'd never met before. A military man from the cut of his uniform. He nodded at the ice harvester, taking another chair, carefully folding the items that had been set upon it and placing them on the floor. The man sat facing the door, on the opposite side of the bed to Kristoff. Kristoff tried placing the face, but he found nothing.

The soldier was tall, not incredibly muscular, but not incredibly lean either. Solid, Kristoff decided at length. At the man's hip hung a sabre with ornate latticework on the hilt. Kristoff tried to figure out the colour of the uniform in the moonlight. It was dark, not black, not red or green either. Kristoff squinted—there was a hint of blue in there somewhere. Dark navy blue. Bluejacket—a marine. But what was a marine doing guarding the Queen? Had Anna ever mentioned something about Queen Elsa finding something—yes, she had! That very morning in fact, in convincing him to allow captain Ragnar to accompany them. Hank, that was the name she'd mentioned. Hank, and something about houseguards? No, it had a 'K' sound in there somewhere. Kousehards? No, housekards… still not it. _Houskarls,_ that was it. Unfortunately Kristoff had no idea what a _houskarl_ actually was, and he really didn't care to find out right now.

His thoughts drifted back to the ambush. The explosion, the ruins of his sled. Sven bolting for the trees. Sven! Kristoff hoped his friend had managed to find safety in the woods. He hoped his family had found Sven, they could take care of the reindeer while he tried to take care of Elsa; while he tried to find Anna. He tried to think why someone would kidnap Anna. The only answer he could think of was to hurt Elsa—and they had most definitely succeeded. Kristoff was afraid of what came next; either Elsa would fall into despair, losing all hope for her kingdom and acceding to anything in order to get Anna back; or Elsa would find that buried shard of anger in her core, the kind of anger that had ruined her office earlier. Kristoff shuddered. If that anger got loose, if there was nothing left to hold her back, Elsa, in perfect control of her powers, could destroy _everything_.

In his mind's eye Kristoff had a chilling vision of Elsa on the warpath. Her wheelchair was gone, and she stood on legs clad in armour made of ice. The armour helped her move somehow. Behind her lay the ruins of Arendelle, ahead of her was the mass grave of an entire army. Bodies torn apart by ice magic, frozen in place, impaled by spears of ice or crushed by tons of falling snow. In the distance was Anna, one arm hanging at her side, her face gray with shock and horror at the scene before her. The purity of Elsa's icy armour was corrupted by the blood that stained her face and hands, the blood matting her hair and marking her footprints. Kristoff shook his head, snapping awake with a start.

Hank stirred at the movement, one hand resting against the hilt of his sabre. It was only the ice harvester, a horrified look on his face. Hank couldn't blame him, after what the servant—Kai—had told him, he too had seen a similar vision. Elsa, enraged like never before, and with nothing left to lose was a terrifying thought indeed. Kai had quickly explained that while he didn't think any attempts would be made on the Queen, she might need to be watched for her own safety. The servant hadn't said more, aside from stating that Elsa would need all the support they could give her in this dark time.

* * *

Elsewhere, blindfolded and struggling against her bonds, Anna was having a hard time coping. It wasn't the fact she had quite obviously been kidnapped. It wasn't the fact Elsa was likely to do something— _bad_ —when she learned of that fact. It wasn't even the fact that she was somewhat scared for her life. It all came down to that one moment, trying to help captain Ragnar. She'd dived in without thinking, as usual. She was prepared to use force—she'd fought off wolves, Marshamallow, and lots more in her childhood adventures. She thought she was prepared for the consequences of her actions. Because of that she'd spent the trip to… wherever they were with vomit down the front of her dress, and an awful burning sensation in her throat.

Her captors had offered her a drink from a hip flask, but she had refused on principle. She regretted that now, hours later, her throat dry and raw. At least she was no longer dirty. They had held her down and removed her dress roughly, making sure she didn't move. She was still blindfolded, so when one of them started to touch her breasts she was terrified they would do—things. But a loud thump, and the thwack of flesh meeting flesh assuaged that fear somewhat. A single word was spoken, full of bitterness and hate.

"Unharmed."

Anna had then felt something around her ankles, a rough-spun fabric drawn up her legs. Some kind of trousers. She wished she could see, wished she didn't have that damnable blindfold covering her eyes. She felt her captors throwing something over her shoulders, dragging her arm through somewhat finer fabric. A blouse of some kind, or perhaps a shirt. It felt far too large. She also felt another man grabbing at her bust. She tried pulling her arm free, wanting to punch him in the face. That movement earned her a hard slap across the cheek. She muttered something insulting into the gag.

"Feisty," another man commented. "Did you see how she got Herman?"

If she was able to, Anna would have rubbed her cheek. She would have spoken, too, if she wasn't gagged and bound again.

"Little bitch, that's what you get for trying to stop us."

Anna held her head high, trying in vain to crack her forehead against the man's stomach right in front of her. Well, she thought he'd been right in front of her, considering where his voice had been coming from. She was rewarded with a slap hard enough to knock her half-off the chair they'd placed her on.

"I thought you said 'unharmed', Mikkel."

"I didn't hit her that hard, Pelle. She won't bruise," Anna imagined a dark smile as she heard the next words. "Unharmed, and if you don't leave any marks, they'll all think that."

Laughter echoed around the space, and Anna tried furiously to figure out where she was, how big the room was. For some reason, from that moment the only interaction she'd had with her captors was another offer of water, and the occasional lewd grope. It felt like they'd left the shirt unfastened for just that reason. Anna fumed, but it was better than remembering what she'd done for captain Ragnar. Almost.

She'd felt the blade slice cleanly into that soldier's neck. She'd felt a strange resistance as it chipped the bone. There was only a tiny spot of blood beneath the blade. It seemed as if the solider might stagger away, but when the shocked Princess had released the dagger the man had fallen like a marionette with its strings cut. Anna had never seen a death quite so close and personal ever before. She had never caused a death, but in fighting to try and help her friend and protector—something Elsa had told her she specifically should _not_ do—she had managed to kill a man with a single blow.

She had—it had been so _easy_. The blade had sliced clean through the flesh of that man's neck. Anna kept replaying the scene in her head. She'd felt the dagger stop, its hilt at the back of the soldier's neck. She'd let go of the weapon instinctively. The soldier had fallen to his knees, then crashed forwards. Anna never saw his face. Somehow, for some reason, that made it _worse_. If she'd done something so terrible, she should have to _own_ it. She should have to see that man's face every night for the rest of her life. But she never would. All she would see was dark hair and the hilt of a dagger. She would never own the enormity of her first kill—even if she had been trying to protect someone.

Anna remembered seeing captain Ragnar fight. He had cut down half a dozen soldiers by the time she got to his side. Even bleeding and broken, he had continued to fight. She remembered seeing him step between her and the soldier trying to take her. She remembered that soldier's eyes, his mouth gasping senselessly for air as his head hit the dirt in front of her. Then there had been the darkness. She was dragged away, when she came to she was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. It was a bad combination, because the first thing she remembered was killing a man. The second was that severed head. She threw up behind the gag, bile burning its way around the fabric and running down her cheeks and chin. Something had loosened the gag, and every chunk of nastiness she could imagine had fallen straight onto her dress. Her blindfold had been lifted just enough for her to see a hip-flask, but she turned her head aside, refusing to drink. That had netted her a slap and a fresh gag.

It also reminded her how dry and parched her throat was feeling right now. She needed a drink—if she was going to survive and escape, she needed something to keep her going. She mumbled loudly into the gag, hoping her guard was awake.

"What's that sweetie?" he crooned lasciviously. "Looks like you got a little something in your mouth."

Anna mumbled into the gag some more. The guard finally pulled it down, over her chin.

"Drink," Anna gasped out. She heard the guard unscrew the top of a flask and felt cold metal pressing against her lips. As she took a long drink, some of the liquid spilling down the side of her face, Anna shifted her weight against the chair she was tied to. She wondered just how much it weighed, and if it would be useful as a weapon. She took another long pull of the drink—something like sweet water, with a hint of lemon—and held the liquid between her cheeks.

Knocking aside the flask with her chin, Anna felt the soldier draw back slightly. She tilted her head back, and sprayed the lemon-flavoured drink in his face—well, she hoped it was his face. Then she pressed both feet flat against the ground, leaning forwards as far as she could, and pushed hard against the floor. She heard the man guarding her curse as she toppled sideways—wait, sideways? She was supposed to be falling forwards, landing on the soldier hard enough to knock him out. Now what was left of her right arm hurt and her head was pounding where it had hit the hard floor. Cold, hard floor. Possibly stone. She realized her gag was still undone, and she began shouting at the top of her lungs.

"It's Princess Anna! They kidnapped me! I'm right here!"

But the reaction wasn't the scrambling panic she'd expected. The man guarding her didn't even tell her to shut up. He just laughed. It was a laugh almost as dark and cruel as the one Hans had shared with her. Anna finally understood, her kidnappers had taken her somewhere very remote. Possibly outside Arendelle itself. The people she had been relying on to save her might not make it after all. People she relied on—Kristoff! The last thing she remembered was seeing him thrown about the sled by the explosion beneath them. She couldn't remember if he had moved again after that.

If he hadn't moved—if he was—no. Anna wouldn't let herself think that. Only about the possible consequence it might bring. Elsa would not realize until Anna missed dinner again, but then she might presume she'd stayed with Kristoff for the meal, finally working up the courage to—and that meant she wouldn't be missed until dawn. She wouldn't be missed for half a day. It would make it so much harder to find her if her captors kept moving her, but they had seemed content to settle in this place, whatever it was.

Hands grabbing at her waist snapped her back to what she'd just been trying to do. Rough and calloused, they pressed against her breasts before dragging her chair upright. One of those hands pressed down against her stomach, sliding beneath the waist of the trousers these men had forced onto her. She felt the hand press harder against her, tracing the outline of her—her… Anna wrenched herself backwards, toppling over again. There was no way she was going to let a man like that touch her there. No way in hell. But falling against the cold, hard floor left her dazed, unable to think properly.

The hand returned, not quite gently tracing the lines between her legs. Anna shifted uncomfortably, trying to spread her legs a little more, hating her body for responding to that touch. The other hand returned to her breast, and Anna tried rolling sideways. Her hip caught against something and she couldn't move that way. She tried rolling the other way, but something strangely soft stopped her progress. She tried screaming again, but all the man did was laugh.

"You tried to escape," he leered. "You should be punished."

A door slammed nearby. Anna felt the hands on her move away slowly.

"Remember what the instructions said, Sten. Unharmed. I don't care what she did or said to get you riled up like that. She's a prisoner, she's a royal. She has some dignity, at least leave her that. It wouldn't do to make her sister… angry. Not with you _personally_. You remember the Duke's story? That was an _accident_. The witch-queen didn't know what she was doing—but now, now she knows. Make sure you remember that next time you think of doing something stupid, Sten. Because I'm more than willing to remind you of your place if you forget it again."

"Yes, Lieute—Mikkel."

"You know what, Sten?" Mikkel's voice grew playful. "You might want to leave that gag off. I hear this princess runs at the mouth, says things. A lot of things. Might be you could actually _learn_ something."

* * *

The sounds of the tavern echoing behind her, Vanja Ostberg-Lang stared blankly at the royal servant in front of her. The clothes made him look out of place in the tavern. Hell, he looked out of place outside the castle. Vanja doubted anyone else would willingly dress like that every day. Even the soldiers only put on their finery for special celebrations or memorial services. That was beside the point, because the servant in front of her had just asked her to do something very stupid. She reconsidered her stance on the matter—not stupid, but very, very inconvenient for her. It was going to be a hell of a task—but, as usual, she was expected to shift heaven and earth to pander to royalty.

The chapel was the first stop, Bishop Gudbrand was likely to be there despite the lateness of the hour. He always seemed to work late, doing whatever it was holy work actually consisted of. Vanja had never had time for spiritual nonsense. All that mattered was what she could see, and feel. She looked at religion like a crutch, useful only for those who couldn't stand to be alone. Oh, sure, it had some useful little rules like not killing each other; or to do things in moderation. She was perfectly fine without religion. Gudbrand was okay in her books, honest and forthright, but he seemed to have a sense of fun shared by Justicar Kristoffersen—which was somewhat less attractive as a personality trait.

The Bishop said nothing as Vanja explained the situation. He hardly moved except to jot down a few lines in his ledger. When she finished, he asked only one question, confirming their plans.

"Dawn?"

Vanja nodded, then left. Her next call was to the Justicar, at home with his family. She'd forgotten he had family. It was something of a recent development, but it was still a detail she should have remembered. That way she wouldn't have been so surprised to see him looking so haggard, his baby daughter pressed against his shoulder and cradled in one arm. Vanja gave him the short version. At the mention of dawn he sleepily rolled his eyes, and gave her a wry smile. She figured he'd probably be late to the meeting—or asleep.

Søren was next, still working hard in his workshop, putting together something that looked quite complex. Vanja was mildly impressed. She knew the guildsman had always been good with his hands—she'd even entertained fantasies about it once or twice, while very, very drunk. It turned out to be quite unfortunate that Søren was holding a spanner when Vanja informed him of the incident that afternoon. The spanner flew from his hand after slipping against a brass nut, slammed into his foot, and clattered across the workshop floor.

Cursing, the guildsman looked darkly at Vanja. "Don't blame me," she said flatly. "Just be there. Dawn."

Søren rose to retrieve the spanner. "Fine. I can set this aside and get some sleep then. I assume you're telling everyone else?"

"Of course. We kind of need the council there to make it a _council_ meeting."

Søren gave no reply, retreating to the bunk in his little office. He was going to need all the sleep he could muster in order to face the Queen tomorrow. Vanja left him be, heading for the next council member. It was now getting closer to midnight than she would have liked.

Per Johanssen, always the workaholic, was slumped over his desk. Vanja rolled her eyes, prodding the old man awake. She gave him the short version of the story too. He scribbled out a note to his assistants, and then started to doze again. The final trade negotiations had been doing his head in, and he really needed a proper night's sleep. Vanja left the small merchant building serving as minister Johanssen's office, and yawned. The next name on her list was the last one. Stefan Larsson—because Kai had already told Gerhardt she wouldn't need to walk all the way to the barracks—on the opposite side of the town from her home.

"Larsson!" Vanja pounded on the scribe's door. "Open up!"

"By the Divine," Larsson recoiled. "Vanja?"

"Meeting. Dawn. Tomorrow. Princess kidnapped."

Dismay and concern swept across Larsson's face, but in her exhausted state Vanja missed them. She did notice how he stiffened at the mention of the word 'kidnapped'.

"Who else knows?"

"Just got 'round telling everyone, Larsson. Now 'less you're gonna offer me your bed—you lewd bastard; that's a 'no'—let me get out of here. I need my damn sleep."

Stefan Larsson closed the door on his erstwhile companion. If only she knew. He carefully slid the switchblade back up his sleeve. It wouldn't have been that hard, but she'd told the rest of the council anyway. Time for damage control and—how the hell did they know it was a kidnapping? Larsson's mind raced, covering the instructions he'd handed to the soldiers still lurking within the city. They'd managed to barter passage from Weselton via the Southern Isles and Corona, taking berths on a French trade vessel. They were the reinforcements the Duke had promised him before Elsa had kicked the Duke out of Arendelle.

It still didn't explain how Vanja knew. Because that meant either Elsa knew—and if she did, there would be hell to pay—or her closest staff did. That, in turn, meant there had been loose ends during the ambush. He'd given them the time and the place, having studied the Princess's habits for some time. The guard with her had been something of a wrinkle, and Larsson hoped he hadn't caused the soldiers too much trouble.

Some serious damage control was in order. Arendelle wasn't supposed to learn that it was a kidnapping for at least another day. That was how long it was supposed to take the ransom demands to be delivered. The fact said demands were hidden in Larsson's basement had nothing to do with timing, only expediency. One of the soldiers would have been dressed as a courier to deliver the demands. Vanja hadn't mentioned who had kidnapped the Princess. That meant they probably didn't know. Larsson allowed himself a small little smile. A minor blessing, one he could play to his advantage. Given that he knew, and the rest of the council did not, Larsson suddenly felt an enormous freedom in being able to change the ransom demands, after all, they had been scrawled—neatly—on plain parchment. It would be easy enough to add a seal—ah, but which one would be the easiest to prove?

Larsson smiled again. Of course—the Southern Isles. After the actions of prince Hans, who wouldn't suspect them of having a hand in kidnapping the Royal Princess. Who indeed…


	31. Breaking the Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, I think, is the chapter I'm most proud of. It's written as a semi-prophetic transformative dream, and the song used within is the epic Take Me Away, by Globus; found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udTPgqbqMwk

There was nothing. She was floating, alone, helpless, in the blackest void she could imagine. There was no up, no down. Time, distance, direction… in this place they had no meaning. Her mind rebelled at such chaos and disorder, and she soon found herself standing in the darkness, and that fact felt very strange. She didn't know why, but she couldn't remember standing upright. Not for a long time. She'd had that ability before, so why did it seem so strange now? She felt cold, detached; it felt like she was outside herself somehow. A young woman stood in the darkness, her face drawn with worry, her blue eyes shadowed and flitting about restlessly. Her platinum blonde hair was captured in an elegant french braid that fell halfway down her back. Something in her hair caught the light in brief flashes of icy brilliance.

She looked closer at this young woman's hair. There were snowflakes in it. Actual, honest to goodness, snowflakes. They weren't melting either. Then she took notice of the dress; a dress of glittering ice, with a gossamer shawl covering a sequined bodice. Not sequins, not when she looked closer. They were tiny rectangles of ice, blue-green, sparkling in a nonexistent light. The gossamer shawl trailed from the young woman's shoulders, becoming a cape—a train—of diaphanous ice. Rosemaling in a snowflake motif covered the tail of the train. She wondered who this young woman was. She wondered, in fact, if it was her.

But with the pain on the young woman's face, she knew something was wrong. Something had saddened her, she was grieving something—but it wasn't real, something was telling her that the grief was a mistake, that what she'd lost was not gone forever. So she looked around the young woman for a clue. She found it to the young woman's right, an emptiness within the void. A deeper darkness that somehow shone with overpowering light. It was a ghost of a memory. A laugh, a flick of twin braids coloured with the dying sun, a warm scent of something wholly indescribable with the barest hint of wild flowers and the musk of fresh rains.

The emptiness had a name: Anna. So did the young woman: Elsa. Elsa snapped back into her own body then, the darkness pressing around her. She felt her hands growing cold and was about to rub them together, but the ghost of a touch against her palm held everything at bay. Even in dreams, even when she was so far away, Anna would always protect her sister. Memories sprang up around Elsa, playing in the snow as children, the ballroom, that night, the accident, snowmen, hearing Anna's voice, missing Anna's voice, seeing Anna on the tower, the great silence, the coronation ball, her flight through the mountains, freezing Anna's heart, the Great Thaw, reconnecting with Anna, injuries, accepting loss, comforting Anna, scaring Anna, playing games with Anna, chess, snowball wars, under the stars, a lingering memory of a ghostly kiss.

Elsa fell to her knees, completely overwhelmed. Even here, in this great darkness, her sister wouldn't let her forget who she was. Anna was saving her, just by the memories she'd left her sister. Elsa wept at the kindness she'd been shown. She knew she didn't deserve any of this, but Anna knew the opposite. She was utterly convinced that Elsa was worth saving, was worth any amount of pain to rescue. Was worth… was worth dying for. Elsa knew how Anna thought, and it broke her heart. Anna deserved so much more than her. A song, a prayer echoed quietly in the darkness. Elsa had no clue if it came from within or without, but its words matched perfectly the turmoil within her heart and the despair filling her soul.

Kneel  
Kneel in silence, alone  
Her spirit bears me  
Pray for guidance, towards hope  
In darkest hours

An echo, a ghost of Anna's voice rippled out when Elsa began to speak the next stanza.

Kneel  
 _Dream within dream we travel  
_ In silence  
 _Watch as your faith unravels  
_ Alone  
 _Sealed with your virtue's treasures  
_ Kingdom's falling… down  
 _Your hand commands this thunder  
_ In silence  
 _Cry as we're torn asunder  
_ Alone  
 _Unto what God do you call?_  
Protect me in my…

 _Fall  
_ Away, my soul wandered  
 _Borne by grace  
_ I flew on high  
 _Sheltered from this thunder_  
Calling heaven…

Elsa rose slowly, realizing what she now had to do. She crossed her arms over her chest, one fist at each shoulder. She took a deep breath, leaning backwards, knowing that this was not the end. This would never be the end. But to fall into this darkness—to accept it instead of fighting it—was an act of supreme faith. She saw a flash of Anna's smiling face, felt a playful push against her shoulders, and so, quite deliberately, she fell. The darkness swallowed her whole, leaving nothing behind, but she was unafraid. This was what Anna wanted, and so, no matter the cost, she would do it. For Anna.

As she fell, Elsa could feel something being pulled from her, something falling away from her, falling into the sky as she plunged into the true depths of this darkness. Trails of ghostly silk spiralled around her as the darkness began to hollow her out from within. But she didn't fight it. She couldn't. The ghost of Anna's voice had told her what to do. _Fall._ She had to let go, accept this darkness. Accept that this darkness was hers, and hers alone. _Borne by grace_. Falling, but her fall was not from grace, rather, towards it. She would be saved, escorted to the beyond. As the darkness had hollowed her out, Elsa knew she was being prepared for something else, for something… _greater_ , than herself to grow from within. _Sheltered from this thunder_. The storm would break around her, the darkness that had swallowed her and eaten away her soul was not punishment but preparation. Anna's ghost promised her safety. Safety during her fall. Safety as she became something more than what she had previously been.

So she continued to fall, the ghostly trails of silk and ice whipping through the sky as she plunged ever deeper into the darkness that was her soul. She fell further, the great emptiness within sparking dull embers of a strange emotion. Elsa felt a great warmth enfolding her, something given freely from without, and the embers within began blazing with light. She heard an echo of a prayer, a song of worship, of blessing, of righteous fury given form, and the defense of all that was good.

 _Take me away from time and season_  
Far far away we'll sing with reason  
Prepare a throne of stars above me  
As the world once known will leave me

Elsa continued to fall, weightless in the dark. As she fell, a great weight seemed to lift from within her. Even though the darkness had swallowed her whole, even though the darkness had emptied her from within, Elsa still had not felt this weight that now left her. She thought she'd had nothing left lose. She was wrong. The weight was her past, everything she'd ever done, everything she'd ever felt, everything she'd ever wanted. Good or bad—and now all of it was… gone. Everything except one tiny mote of light. A feather against the weight of the world. It was the most precious thing in the world, and it had been stolen from her.

Anna. Her ghost flashed in the darkness, smiling warmly at Elsa before she faded to nothingness, leaving only that spark.

Elsa realized that this ghost of her sister was not a real ghost, that Anna was alive, and if not well, at least not in immediate danger. The ghost that sang to her was a memory of a time before time, a voice that she'd never heard—a voice above all voices; words she'd never said—but that were nevertheless _right_. As she fell, the words to complete the prayer filled every fibre of her being, shouting to be heard.

Take me away upon a plateau

The darkness shattered like glass, glittering shards reflecting a starry night. There was a world around her, and Elsa felt the storm inside her heart begin to ease. She floated in the darkness, and she was no longer falling. Instead, her feet touched the ground as if she were being lowered by some great invisible hand. Looking around in wonder, Elsa took in the world around her, not truly understanding the beauty nor the danger that now surrounded her. In the distance the sky was grey with clouds. Shadows stretched across the lands beneath her, and fear still clouded her heart. Her right hand went to the cross hanging at her neck and held it tight. Words that were not hers rushed through her mind, slowly escaping her lips. The song was not yet finished.

Far far away from fears and shadows

From where she stood, everything seemed to draw away from her, the horizon growing more distant as the shadows shrank and the clouds faded. From that horizon came a golden light, limning the clouds in the sky, transforming them from an ominous grey to a luminous vermillion. Stars still glittered in the heavens, and as wonder fought with fear, while desire battled awe, Elsa saw them change. The very stars were changing as she thought these things. She began to understand. What she was seeing was not outside, not separate from the world, but caused by it; caused by her. The stars reflected her emotions, her desires, her wants and needs, fears and memories. The stars were her, and she was a part of them. The great blue-black canvas overhead was not the night sky, but the very fabric of her soul. The darkness that had swallowed her, that her sister's ghost had told her not to be afraid of, it was her. It was her, and she was crying out for support.

Strengthen my heart in times of sorrow

The light, the spark that was Anna rushed from the heavens and slammed into her chest, passing through the cross in her hand. The embers kindled within her soul blazed with newfound light, and the shadows below recoiled, vanishing into nothingness as a light pure and true shone from the Queen of ice and snow. But the light was not hers. It was not Anna's. It was something far greater—something Elsa had only recently dared to believe in again. The light began to fade, but the shadows did not return. Elsa opened her hand to look at the cross hung around her neck. No longer made of silver, the crucifix blazed with light, incorruptible and inconceivably powerful. The light seemed to drain away from the cross, flowing into her instead. It showed not everything she was, but everything she could be. It showed her love instead of hate. It showed her how to love someone for their flaws, not in spite of them. It showed her… everything. That must be how Anna sees me, Elsa realized with a start. She needed a way to thank the light for what it had shown her. Words fell from her lips like leaves on the wind; both an expression of gratitude and a fervent prayer.

Light the way to bright tomorrows

The stars fell from the dawning sky like rain while Elsa stood in awe of all she'd just been shown. As the stars began to fall she felt her feet rise from the ground, felt her entire body buoyed by the light. The stars continued to fall, but they never hit the ground. None of them did. They curved gently, wreathing Elsa in a cloak of light. As she fell into the sky everything began to glow, the world below and the night above faded to white. There was nothing. She was floating, but she was no longer alone. She was no longer helpless. She no longer needed the distinction of up and down, because in this place, time, distance, and direction did not belong. There was simply here, and now. Infinite and forever, but defined only by herself. Without her, this place would not exist.

Elsa didn't know how long she floated in the light, it could have been forever, it could have been an instant. In this place they were one and the same. Before she had come to rest within this light she had been worried, gravely so. That fear had been scoured from her, but the love that informed it had not. That love had a name: Anna. It had red hair and braids. An infectious laugh and a sense of fun. It teased her more with a single arm than she thought was possible with two. It promised her that no matter what else happened, all would be right with the world when she smiled.

Closing her eyes slowly, Elsa let herself drift gently in the light. She relaxed, able to put aside her concern for a moment, able to think clearly, to create a plan of action. She never expected to hear a voice in the light that was not her own, and yet, she was not startled. She was not afraid. Something had told her to expect this voice. The voice was the only thing that held meaning within the infinite expanse. It was sublime and beautiful, and Elsa knew she could never hope to understand in full what she'd just heard.

 _Answer your call in darkest hours_  
Shelter your fall from evil's powers  
Temper your soul with flame and furnace  
Bear you towards a noble purpose

 _Heaven hides nothing in its measure_  
Mortal men blinded by false treasure  
Formless and vanquished you shall travel  
Shield and faith will guide your battle

* * *

Elsa awoke with a ragged gasp, sweat drenching her body. The blanket someone had thrown over her while she slept now lay in a tangled pile around her legs. She remembered falling asleep in Anna's bed. She remembered the dream, she remembered being swallowed by the darkness inside of her. She remembered nightmares about Anna being taken away. She reached out for her sister only to find the bed empty, because her nightmare was real, and the ordeal was only just beginning. She was surprised to see someone—a man, sitting on a chair beside the bed. Who had let him in?

Everything came crashing back to her, and Elsa curled up on the bed, whimpering in pain. It wasn't _fair_. She shouldn't have to suffer like this. She'd been working so hard to atone for the past. So very hard. More of the dream returned to her, the way the light had buoyed her soul. The way her fear had been transmuted to awe. Her wonder was shaken when a hand touched her shoulder—a hand that didn't belong to Kristoff, sitting in front of her. A surprised gasp escaped her lips, but she managed to restrain her powers. Mostly. There was a deep rumble, and the moan of settling ice echoed behind her. She turned, slowly, to see who it was that had laid a hand on her.

It was Hank. His right arm had been frozen solid to the shoulder. Most of the space between him and Elsa was also frozen, a great wall of ice to keep them apart. Elsa winced, dragging herself upright so she could place one hand on either side of Hank's frozen arm. There was another moment of panic when his arm didn't immediately begin to thaw, but a memory of Anna flashed through her mind, and just as quickly the ice was gone. Hank gave the Queen a weak smile, trying to brush it off as if it was no big deal but she saw the flash of fear behind his blue-grey eyes.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Elsa looked out the window. The sky was dark, and stars still shone through the night. She knew how badly she'd slept. It was strange though, because her mind was willing, cogent and coherent; but her body felt like lead, felt as if she was running on empty. That was when she realized she'd inadvertently skipped dinner. True, there had been a rather more pressing—and devastating—matter on her mind at the time, but she should not have been neglecting her body's needs. Patting Hank on the shoulder, she whispered something in his ear.

"I'm glad you're here. I'll need your support today."

"Of course, your majesty," Hank offered a small bow. "Is there a task you require my help in completing?"

Elsa dragged herself from bed and into her icy chair. There was, in fact, a task she required help with; a bodily need she had to take care of, but she could do it without Hank's help for now. She wanted his help, but she also knew he wouldn't want to intrude on matters like that—even if it would eventually have to become part of his role as her _houskarl_.

"Not right now, Hank," Elsa wheeled herself into the bathroom. "But when dawn breaks I think there's going to be a lot of trouble. Be ready."

* * *

Gaslamps still burned in the council chamber. It was on the wrong side of the castle to catch the sun's rays at dawn, and the gaslamps lent it a sort of semi-oppressive gloom entirely appropriate to how everyone felt. Haggard and worn, the council had actually managed to assemble at short notice. None of them were in a particularly good mood. None of them cared for the troubles they knew the others had gone through to get here this early. The only thing they cared about was that Queen Elsa was not yet present, despite it being well after dawn.

Per Johanssen was slumped backwards in his chair, eyes half open, ledger open in his hands. His quiet half-snores hid nothing. Søren sat quietly, rubbing sleep from his eyes, wishing he hadn't worked quite so late on a task that actually required his concentration. Bishop Gudbrand held both a ledger and a holy book, and was halfway to jotting notes in the wrong leather bound volume before he realized what he was doing. Marshal Gerhardt was bleary eyed but mostly present—he'd been up all night thinking through contingency plans and rescue operations after Kai had informed him of the kidnapping. He had brought several maps and handwritten notes with him to elaborate on those.

Stefan Larsson, his clothes more out of order than usual this morning actually looked surprisingly well rested. He had, indeed, worried for some time about what might happen if the Queen ever learned the truth, but figured he had enough time to simply disappear if that happened. He was also the only one who knew roughly where Anna was being held. He didn't know the exact location, it wasn't his job. His job had been to give those orders to the Weseltonian soldiers lurking within the city. Orders, and a copy of the armoury key—he smirked inwardly, if only Gerhardt and Kristoffersen knew how related those thefts actually were.

Finally, there was Vanja Ostberg-Lang. Her head rested against her arms, folded against the table. Her breathing was slow and regular. The others probably thought she was asleep. She wished she _could_ sleep. When she'd made it home after relaying the story to all the other council members she had remembered what kidnapping meant. What—whoever it was—might be doing to the Princess. Vanja didn't much care for the royals, but she didn't think they deserved that. And that had reminded her of her own ordeal, and that meant she hadn't slept very well at all.

Some time later there was a knock at the doors, and everyone stirred, expecting Queen Elsa. The doors cracked open and Justicar Kristoffersen scanned the room, quickly noting the Queen's absence. Everyone looked as tired as he felt, and the Justicar all but collapsed into his regular seat, directly opposite the head of the table. He was still tired—his new daughter Sigrid had not slept well, so neither had he or Siri. Blinking back sleep, Kristoffersen opened his ledger and went over his notes from the previous night.

When Elsa eventually made her way to the council chamber, everyone except Gerhardt had been surprised to see the man escorting her. Not her servant Kai, but a military man. A man who wore the uniform of Arendelle's Royal Marines, and did it proud. Dark jacket, silver buttons, and at his left hip hung a sabre with an ornate basket hilt. It looked like a ceremonial blade, but the man's demeanor indicated it was anything but. His expression was neutral, guarded. He looked not at Elsa, but at the council, his steely gaze assessing each of them in turn. It was clear then that he was to be Queen Elsa's bodyguard, and that he took his role very seriously. He would trust no one until they had proven themselves trustworthy to him.

Elsa wheeled herself into the council chamber, stopping just to the right of Justicar Kristoffersen. This was not how such meetings normally began, but this was also not such a normal meeting. Her right arm reached out, over the darkly polished surface of the table, and frost sprinkled the table where she let something fall from her hand. Everyone stared at the item, dumbstruck. It was small metal crest, bearing part of a maker's mark. It was obvious it had been pried loose from something—probably an armoured cuirasse. But that was not what had captured everyone's attention. That prize went to the symbol on the crest itself. Upon a field of gold was emblazoned a black weasel. Everyone present recognized that crest—it belonged to the Duke of Weselton. The tension growing in the council chamber was almost palpable.

Pushing herself away from the table, meeting the gaze of everyone present, Elsa spoke. Two words in a tone so calculating and commanding that even without magic the temperature in the room would have fallen several degrees. Two words that let the council know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that there _was_ something Queen Elsa would place before herself, her people, or her entire kingdom. As she left the council chamber, escorted by her bodyguard, all hell broke loose as those words echoed through the air.

"Find Anna."


	32. Preparations & Revelations

"Alright Anna, think," the Royal Princess of Arendelle was talking to herself. Again. But it also happened to be the best way she knew of to deal with her problems. It was a pity Joan wasn't there to act as a sounding board for any crazy schemes. Or Elsa for that matter, although Elsa probably would have vetoed anything that went an inch beyond reasonable. Unfortunately, those were the only plans Anna had left now.

"Think, Anna, think," she didn't care how crazy she sounded—it wasn't like anyone was there to listen anyway. "Wait, there actually isn't anyone here. So that means—what? They don't think I can escape? I'm not worth guarding? They left me behind?" Anna rolled her eyes. "Like I'd be that lucky. So what is this place? It's made of stone. It's old. I guess it might kinda be some kind of dungeon.

"Of course it is, dummy, why else would you be in a stone cell with a locked door? A dark, cold, stone cell with a locked door," Anna was pacing around slowly, she could just see the outline of a stone slab in the moonlight. She could barely make out where the darkness changed from floor to walls. "Okay, so, you're in a dungeon right? Right, that's good. We figured something out. Of course it's not very helpful right now—what would Joan say? 'What do we know about dungeons'? Of course.

"So a dungeon is normally made of stone. It has cells for keeping prisoners in. Right, right, but that's not it. What else? Chains? Check. Bed? Sort of, I guess. Not very comfortable—but it _is_ a dungeon. Okay, think Anna, think—what do dungeons have in common? They're dark and nasty and I don't want to sleep in them? Okay, not quite right. Made of stone? Sure, umm, I guess that's a thing."

"Doesn't she ever _shut up_?" A voice asked quietly from the far side of the door. It sounded quite distant, maybe even a little bit echo-y.

"Enough, Pelle. Your watch is nearly over anyway. Nothing useful?"

"Nah, she's just trying to figure out something about dungeons—thought she was supposed to be smart?"

"The witch-queen is, but remember this one rode out into a blizzard wearing a cloak and a coronation dress. That seem smart to you?"

"No, it really doesn't."

Anna fumed at the way these men so casually referred to her sister as a witch. Half of her wanted to show them all the good, all the love and devotion and tenderness Elsa was capable of. The other half of her—the slowly growing and rather less gracious half—wanted these men to learn exactly how much of a witch Elsa was. And if she herself could get her hands on them?

"And do what?" Anna quietly asked the cold night air. "You killed someone, and now you think you're some kind of monster because you took a life. You were trying to protect a friend. Imagine how Elsa would feel if she did something like that. What if it was an accident—what if it was her powers?"—Anna's train of thought could only go so far before the next question she asked she didn't ever want an answer to—"What if it was… me?"

Anna fell to the floor in shock, hugging her knees to her chest. How could I have been so _blind?_ She wasn't just afraid for me; afraid of hurting me. She was afraid her magic might _kill_ me. And then… on the fjord… it _did_. What kind of sister am I for putting Elsa through that? And now… oh, gods, now what? What am I gonna do? I have to apologize for finally figuring it out—wait, what? That's not right; apologize because I figured it out. Okay, so, step one: escape. I have to get out of here—but how?

"Okay, Anna, think. Think—what's a dungeon—no, _where_ do we find dungeons," And that was when Anna knew she was making progress. "Underneath a castle. Yes! A castle; okay, a castle… a castle…"—maybe not as much progress as she might have liked—"so, which castle? Didn't Kai point out these landmarks when we looked at that map?"—Anna nodded to herself—"of course he did, he was trying to help me navigate—I told him how lost I got last time. Even Elsa pointed out how bad I was at finding things. But really, it was a blizzard, in a forest, at night. How was I supposed to see anything, let alone that mountain?

"Oh, nevermind. Let's just try and figure this out. Dungeon. Guards. Castle. Yup," Anna rolled her eyes and sighed. "All I got. Not exactly helpful right now. Okay, what else? Names: Pelle, Mikkel, Sten. Three—but there were a lot more raiders coming to get us. Mikkel—he's like some kind of leader, the others listened to him. Right, right, how can we use this? They said something about me running at the mouth—okay, yeah, probably kinda true but let's see, let's see if I can use this. For what? Hmm, yeah, it's getting cold. Did they leave me a blanket?"

Her hand scrabbled around atop the stone slab that served as a bed, finding something made of rough-spun but undeniably warm fabric. Maybe some kind of wool? She pulled it down from the slab, wrapping it around her shoulders. It felt rough against her bare neck and hand, but the important thing was that it actually was kind of warm. Anna shivered into the blanket, wishing she could be back home, in her bed, with Elsa wrapping her in a warm hug. Slowly falling into a light doze, Anna clutched the blanket tighter and whispered into the night, Elsa's face haunting her memories.

"I miss you."

That was when the dreams came. She was bound and gagged, and those men kept ripping her dress off. Time and again she was left in nothing but her underwear, all she could do to get away was to squirm and wriggle and try to free her hand. It never worked. They would throw her against the floor, and then she would feel rough hands all over her body, grabbing at her breasts, hips, legs—she would try to escape, but one of them cracked her head against the floor. Dazed and confused, she couldn't fight. She knew it was wrong, what these men were trying to do, but she couldn't focus long enough to get away from them. She would pray for salvation, and suddenly captain Ragnar would be there, his blade hewing through the men with disturbing ease. Then Anna would find herself at his side, and she'd just plunged the dagger into the last man's neck.

The man fell to his knees, toppling forward. His short, dark hair grew pale and long as he fell. His crimson uniform shaded to purple, blue, then turquoise-white. Hitting the ground on his side, the body changed again—a tall, slender, svelte young woman. With white hair and a blue-green dress. She fell sideways, and Anna finally saw the face. Elsa. Anna could just see the tip of the dagger protruding through her sister's neck, Elsa trying to say something—anything—as she lay dying, murdered by her own sister.

Screams still echoing in her ears, Anna woke covered in a cold sweat. She was lying against the floor, blanket half covering her. It was obvious she'd fallen from the bed some time ago. The sky remained stubbornly dark, and the air retained a damp chill. Anna pulled the blanket over her shoulders and wearily hauled herself onto the stone slab that would be her bed. She needed sleep—but she didn't need dreams like that again. But maybe she deserved them, she considered the fact she'd killed a man. Deliberately. It was an act that could never be undone. He had been someone's son; a brother, perhaps; possibly even a father himself. Anna shivered beneath the blanket, wishing everything could go back to the way it was.

But it couldn't. Not ever. She could never get her arm back. Elsa would be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life—no, she won't, Anna promised herself, remembering her research. The world—at least those near Arendelle—now knew about Elsa's powers. She'd never really studied politics, but Anna remembered Elsa saying that a lot of rulers would pay handsomely to see her powers removed from the picture permanently.

"So why kidnap me?" Anna asked the midnight air. "Why not just try killing Elsa?"

Moments later, she had it. "They want to control her powers, make her do things. Or they'll hurt me. Don't do it Elsa, you know I wouldn't want you to use powers like that, even if… even if… just don't Elsa, don't do it," Anna sighed heavily. "What am I even saying—you can't hear me. I mean, I can shout pretty loud, but I don't think it'd carry far enough, so yeah… I wish you were here Elsa. I mean not here, here, but here, with me—not in a dungeon, but so you could… ugh." Anna finally pulled the blanket over her head in frustration. That just left her feet cold.

Anna slept again, tossing and turning, unable to get any real rest. She woke at dawn—or somewhere near dawn, as best she could tell. That meant her cell was on the east wall—and also that her captors were evil masterminds, because they knew waking up at dawn every day would torture her endlessly. There was a horrendous crash outside her door and Anna dared to hope someone might be there to rescue her. It was nothing to get excited about, only breakfast being spilt across the dungeon floor. A bowl of—something—was all but thrown at her. They'd also given her a ration of water in a small tin cup. The door slammed shut and locked again before she could see the man's face.

She ate without any real kind of gusto. Without any passion whatsoever. Whoever had made this… this hideous crime against breakfasts deserved either a cooking lesson, or death. Anna wasn't sure what she'd give a cook that bad. Hell, he was worse than Elsa. Anna nearly snorted her drink, remembering Elsa's expression that morning. She remembered Elsa's expression that night too—absolutely stunned by one small act of love. Anna smiled. Even here, kidnapped by some strange men, Elsa could still bring a smile to her face. She was still smiling while trying to figure out if a spoon would make an effective weapon—maybe if her foe was a large custard flan, or ice cream, or soup; or anything other than what she _had_ been served for breakfast.

"Okay Anna, think," she was talking to herself again, softly, in case they had actually left a guard outside her door this morning. "What would Flynn Rider do?"

Looking around her room, Anna took stock of everything she had. First, what she was wearing: Bra, panties, shirt, trousers. Nothing in the pockets. Next, the items in her cell that she couldn't use: Bed, well sort of; bars, some chain, large wooden door. Okay, what did she have on hand? Anna catalogued everything in front of her: Bowl, spoon, tin cup, serving tray, blanket, bucket. Nothing stood out as being especially useful—well, the bowl or the bucket could have been used to clock someone, and the blanket might temporarily blind a guard if she managed to throw it over them, and…

"It's so crazy it might just work. Anna, you're brilliant—assuming this doesn't all blow up in your face of course. But isn't it a prisoner's beholden duty to try and escape anyway? Of course it is," Anna's face fell. "But you have to be careful, because they might actually hurt you. Mikkel said unharmed, but if we give them too much trouble—wait, they were scared of what Elsa might do if she got angry at them. Okay, so, let's think about this carefully, make sure no one can hear you."

So the conversation moved to Anna's thoughts. She had the beginnings of a plan now. Probably not a very good plan, all things considered, but it _was_ a plan. Any plan was better than no plan. Step one involved the bucket, and some creative violence. Step two required the blanket, and good aim. Step three—or actually step zero—involved the the spoon and the tin cup, and running like Fenrir himself was chasing her. Anna had never heard the adage about no plan surviving contact with the enemy. If she had, it still wouldn't have stopped her—she was determined she was going to see Elsa again, no matter what it took. Because, she finally realized, she needed Elsa just as much as Elsa needed her.

* * *

In the castle of Arendelle, in the west wing, in a small chamber on the second floor, four powerful and influential members of Arendelle's society were arguing. Loudly. It was giving their scribe and advisor tremendous headaches for very different reasons. Stefan Larsson, the scribe, was frantically trying to figure out how to salvage the situation while swiftly transcribing the salient points of each argument into his ledger. Vanja Ostberg-Lang was trying to maintain some semblance of order as the council's advisor—trying to keep things reasonable and orderly. She really wasn't having much success; she glanced sideways at Larsson, and saw that he was having just as much difficulty writing down everything being said.

"It's odd that the Queen did not ask us to rescue Anna," Justicar Kristoffersen cut in, "'Find Anna', not 'rescue Anna'. It leads me to believe we might be in a situation risking the Queen herself here."

"I doubt she's going to launch some hare-brained rescue operation," Marshal Gerhardt responded. "She's too much of a _pacifist_."

"I think she would fight for Princess Anna," Bishop Gudbrand offered his opinion. "She's the one thing that seems to make the Queen happy, keep her stable. And let us not forget that the Queen might not have to fight—her magic can be powerfully intimidating; agreed?"

Gerhardt and Kristoffersen nodded, Søren frowned. All of them, it seemed, had had experiences with Elsa's magic going out of control, or her unthinking reactions to being touched. Some of those experiences might well have been frightening, but to Søren they were more amusing, in a darkly humorous way. He wouldn't dare laugh at them, but he didn't think them particularly dangerous either, just an annoying side effect of having such powers. He wondered briefly if Elsa saw them that way too.

Slamming her fist against the oaken table, Vanja Ostberg-Lang called for attention. "Gentlemen," she nodded sharply at the other council members. "Recall that Queen Elsa has given us an order here; Marshal Gerhardt, your plan, your troops; how soon can you move them out?"

"Noon, perhaps sooner for advance parties."

"Excellent. Minister Johanssen; trade negotiations—will this incident be a problem?"

"It shouldn't. At any rate, the clipper with our reply should be in Spain by now. We can expect a confirmation of the ambassadorial visit within five days, four if the wind is with them."

Vanja noted all this in her own, rather smaller ledger before speaking again. "Justicar Kristoffersen, you proposed a different search?"

Kristoffersen cleared his throat. "A search for motive, rather. We have a good idea now of why someone might kidnap Princess Anna, but for the Duke of Weselton to move so openly worries me. Gerhardt outlined his theory about trying to control the Queen earlier, and I do not think he was far wrong—although perhaps this was done as a political move, to remove the influence of our Queen's powers from use by our allies."

"More than that," Gerhardt corrected the Justicar. "I said this might be a prelude to war—with the Queen unwilling to use her powers—or act in any capacity for fear of harm coming to the Princess, we have been effectively crippled. However, I think Queen Elsa was quite angry when she told us to 'Find Anna', and _that_ could be even more dangerous. For everyone. She might not intentionally harm anyone with her powers, but unintentionally, while feeling this deep seated kind of anger, we all remember the fjord—I think it best we find the Princess. Quickly."

"What about the troops you're sending out to search for the Princess?" Kristoffersen asked. "Won't they be needed if it comes to war?"

"If it comes to war," Gerhardt intoned darkly. "We're going to see just how angry the Queen gets. I may not be able to do anything with our soldiers currently, but the Queen… well… I guess we'll see…" The Marshal of Arendelle would have been more than happy to see the Queen lash out in anger, to fight for something. To actually, deliberately, cause harm with her powers. But he knew it would never happen. Elsa lacked the sense of purpose a true warrior needed—although with those words, it was possible she might just have found it.

"Noted," Vanja scribbled a line about Gerhadrdt's plans in her ledger. "Now can we get back on track? Yes? Thank you. Let's see, where are we—Søren; the guilds?"

"Still not talking to each other. I'm going to be knocking heads at this rate—'work together, or else'," the guildsman huffed, crossing his arms. "As for the current situation, all the blacksmiths are also capable weaponsmiths. If the military needs anything"—Søren nodded to Gerhardt, who simply frowned back—"well, you know how to contact us."

"Okay, last order of business," Vanja pointed politely to the Bishop. "As it seems to be what you're best at, I think you should try offering the Queen some sort of consolation in this difficult time. She needs support—we want her to _have_ support—so we don't have a repeat of the, uh, 'incident' that led to everyone learning about her powers."

"Any other business?" Vanja scanned the table. Nothing. "Right, let's actually get something useful done then." And with that, she was first out the doors. She didn't go far, just leaned against the wall, watching everyone else file past. Larsson was the last one out, holding the Weselton crest in his free hand, looking at it with a rather worried expression.

"Larsson, it'll be fine," she patted him on the back—perhaps a little harder than usual—as she moved away from the wall, mentally preparing herself for facing the Queen. For some reason though, Larsson laughed at her reassurance. There was no humour in it; Vanja frowned—but maybe Larsson simply hadn't gotten as much sleep as she thought, she knew she had a tendency to laugh inappropriately when overly tired. That had to be it.

* * *

Hank could tell Elsa was worried. He would have been too, in her place. Family was important, you never left them behind, no matter how grating or annoying they might be, they were still _family_. A spark of envy crossed his mind as he realized Elsa still had some family, while all he had was memories. He hadn't lied about his father outliving everyone—Hank had just neglected to mention he'd outlived his father by a few years now. A few years back, one particularly harsh winter—and here Hank had to wonder if, in some small part, it might have been Elsa's fault; her parents had died earlier that year after all. He didn't dwell on the matter, instead, he placed a calming hand on Elsa's shoulder when the door to her study opened. His free hand brushed the snow from his hair and shoulders—the movement was almost automatic.

"Bishop Gudbrand?" Elsa sounded surprised and perhaps a little apprehensive. Hank had to wonder why, because as far as he knew nothing untoward had ever happened between the pair. Then again, ice powers, powerful religious organization. Might there be some unresolved issue there?

"Your majesty," Gudbrand offered a slight, respectful bow. Hank couldn't fail to notice that the Bishop didn't lower his eyes, his gaze flicking between Elsa's lap—where her hands were—and her face. Gudbrand continued to talk as Hank took this all in. "I thought I might inquire as to whether you were"—here the Bishop wrung his hands, searching for the right word, finding nothing quite fitting—"comfortable, with the way things are being handled?"

"Honestly?" Elsa's voice was sincere and Hank took note of how carefully still her hands were. "No, Bishop Gudbrand, I am not comfortable with how things are being handled right now."

Gudbrand opened his mouth to respond, but Elsa held up a hand to forestall any possible protest. Hank was startled when that hand suddenly found his, resting gently over it. It seemed a small gesture, but it served as an indication that Elsa really did feel the need for support during this ordeal.

"I'm not comfortable with this situation at all," Elsa elaborated for the Bishop. "But I know that, right now, I cannot completely trust my own judgement. I wish to be out there, aiding in the search for my sister—but I know I have to stay here, safe, in the castle, because we don't need both the Queen and the heir in peril. I want to fight for Anna, I want to make my way to her, through anything life throws at me—but I know I can't, because I don't like fighting, and because if I did fight, I might endanger everything with my powers. I know I scared you the other day, and I truly am sorry for that. Just believe me when I say finding Anna's kidnappers might make me… snap. I know exactly what I want to do to them, I want it so badly—and I'm afraid I wouldn't have the will to stop myself. I don't want to be responsible for something like that."

"Then don't be," Gudbrand replied with a simplicity that surprised Hank and Elsa both. "Trust that there are others in the kingdom who care as much for Princess Anna as you do. Trust that they know what they're doing, and that they are perfectly capable of returning your beloved sister to you. Simply put, Queen Elsa, you should have a little more faith."

Gudbrand winked at the Queen, and Hank felt her hand fall from his, taking hold of something hanging around her neck. Upon seeing that movement the Bishop smiled warmly before offering a small bow, leaving without saying another word. Hank looked down at the Queen, wondering what had just happened. What had she referenced when she mentioned scaring the Bishop? After a moment, Elsa's hand fell to her lap, and she was staring up at Hank. He noticed the silver chain around her neck, the cross hanging from it. It looked as if she might say something when they heard another knock at the door. The visitor announced herself before entering.

"Vanja Ostberg-Lang, your majesty," she didn't offer a bow or curtsey, and that drew a frown from Hank. Ostberg-Lang didn't seem to notice, or simply didn't care. She was the council advisor, Hank recalled, and as she briefed Queen Elsa on what had happened after she left the meeting, he assessed the woman standing just inside the door. Average height, solid physique—all those furs couldn't hide the way she carried herself, nor the strength evident in her hands. An archer, perhaps? No, the furs were more than an affectation. They had been sewn together with care, worked into a proper coat with quite some skill. Seamstress? But that wouldn't explain the brusque way she explained everything—no words wasted, no unnecessary information. So, what then?

Archery, furs, tailoring, bluntness. Perhaps a huntress? Hank frowned, searching her up and down. Practical boots, thick looking trousers—yes, trousers—so more than likely a huntress. Interesting. More interesting than the information she was delivering to the Queen at any rate. It was roughly what Elsa had thought would happen, the council bickered and fought for a time, and they all just went with Gerhardt's plan. It was interesting to see how much influence he actually had over the council, and that very fact left Hank a little worried. It meant that in the Queen's absence the council could become quite militaristic. He trusted Gerhardt, but with that much power he began to wonder just how far that trust should really extend.

The rest of the day became something of a blur to Hank, not because it was filled with events, but because it wasn't. Everything after lunch merged together into one continuous moment of granting Elsa what little support he could offer, while she quietly roamed the castle, carefully avoiding her sister's bedroom, the grand hall, the kitchen, even a certain hallway on the third floor. It was on their third trip around the first floor that he officially met Olaf. The voice had come from behind them, and being unfamiliar with it, Hank's sabre was already halfway drawn. He sheathed the weapon properly when realized the most dangerous thing this new… person?… could do would be to dampen Elsa's clothes, or perhaps give her a splinter.

"Hi Elsa! Hi Elsa's friend!"

"Olaf?" Elsa turned her chair slowly to face the little snowman.

"Are you and Anna playing hide and seek?"

"What?" Elsa raised an eyebrow at the snowman's odd question. "Anna was kidna—taken away. I—we—the council, Arendelle; we need to find her."

"I haven't seen her since yesterday morning… I think. She promised me lots of hugs last time if I didn't tell you where she was."

"Wait, Olaf, when did we play hide and seek?" Elsa's brow furrowed, trying to remember. With the light behind her eyes, Hank could see she was trying very hard to try and piece something else together.

"Oh, I don't know. After a bath I think," Olaf's reply helped exactly nothing.

"And where did she hide that time?" Elsa gave the little snowman a pointed gaze.

"Her room. She locked me outside—can you believe it?"

Elsa said nothing. Hank could see her brow furrowing gently in concentration. She was obviously trying to remember exactly what Olaf was referring to, and having difficulty. Then again, he considered, actually taking a bath would be quite a common occurrence. One could easily get them mixed up—or forget what made them different in the first place. It was obviously important, because that look that had just crossed Elsa's face was… intense.

"I think Anna's been hiding too long," Olaf said matter-of-factly, pointing at something just past Elsa. "She owes me lots of warm hugs—so she's hiding over there."

Elsa cocked her head, obviously trying to understand what the snowman had just said. Hank watched as she turned, slowly allowing her gaze to trace where Olaf was pointing. It was a blank wall, next to a window.

"She's not there, Olaf," they all heard the disappointment in Elsa's voice.

"Well of course she's not there, there. But over there, like in that direction. I can totally see it. That way. Anna's that way, and I'm going to get all those hugs."

Elsa just stared at the little snowman. Hank placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, not wanting her to build up false hope only to have it dashed against the rocky shore of harsh reality. Lifting his hand from Elsa's shoulder, Hank knelt before the snowman.

"Olaf, how do you know Anna is over there?"

Olaf shrugged, fiddling with his buttons. "I just do. Anna's there, Elsa's over there, and I'm here. I found Anna in the castle and told her about love. Oh, and then, and then… Kristoff came back because he didn't love her enough to leave her behind. Oh, I know why—I can help!"

Both Hank and Elsa frowned at the little snowman. He elaborated. "I know where Anna is." He insisted: "I can help."


	33. Stumbling Blocks

Stefan Larsson looked over the ransom demands that had been hidden behind the loose stones in his basement wall. They were good, useful even. The problem was Elsa _knew_. Damn her eyes, she knew. Which meant there had been loose ends during the ambush. Sure, it was possible that she might have discovered her missing guard that night, but she should have had to ride out—or be taken out in a carriage more likely—she should not have been able to realize the true situation for days. The most damning item by far had been the Weselton crest, obviously pried off the armour of one of his soldiers. That meant not only loose ends, but that at least one, and probably many more, of the soldiers meant to be guarding the Princess were dead.

Gerhardt's rescue plan only made things worse. There was no way to properly oppose those actions, by subterfuge or overt means. Not without being discovered as a traitor to the realm. Larsson wondered if he could live with that—the Duke wouldn't be happy, of course, but he hardly ever was these days. Losing trade with Arendelle had cost them dearly. Weselton provided modest amounts of precious metals such as gold, silver, and even platinum. In return Arendelle provided the territory with fabrics, gemstones, and ice. Many of Weselton's citizens depended on those trade goods from Arendelle in order to make a living. The Duke was only trying to make sure they could still make a living—at least until Weselton could find a more amenable trade partner; like Prussia. Or Spain.

All the while pillaging anything the army would leave standing in Arendelle. Two more days and they should make landfall; Larsson knew that because he was supposed to stir up as much civil unrest as possible within two days—then vanish until the Queen was properly deposed by her people. The Duke had overestimated the fear the people of Arendelle had for Elsa by several orders of magnitude. Larsson cursed the man's petty, vengeful nature. If it wasn't for that—if he hadn't told his guards to try and kill Elsa—Weselton and Arendelle might well have remained trade partners. That was ruined now, and Larsson was one of the men picking up the pieces. While Minister Johanssen plied the king consort of Spain with lucrative trade agreements, the Duke of Weselton was offering much the same arrangement to the Queen of Spain herself. While his attempts at sabotaging the trade deal were subtle, Larsson had begun to wonder if the Duke might manage to sabotage his own talks—his dancing, after all, was legendary.

It helped matters that Weselton was on the continental mainland—and a day and a half closer by boat. But first, the Queen of Spain needed to be convinced that the Queen of Arendelle was unreliable—she had to look very, very bad next to the Duke—unfit to handle matters of state in an appropriate… Larsson smiled. It wouldn't matter whether or not Einar managed to screw up enough to offend half of the Spanish court anymore. Elsa had just done most of the work for him. She had placed the importance of a family member—admittedly royalty, and heir to the throne—above the good of her people and her kingdom.

Still smiling, Larsson wrote out two notes. One, giving the soldiers new instructions on how to treat the Princess—his contact could have those instructions there within hours if he rode the right track through the forests. The other note contained the ransom demands, insinuations about what was going to happen to the Princess, and plenty of excuses to make the Queen explode. Literally. Larsson wanted everyone to see how unstable her powers were; it would also play into his alternate plan very well. If the Queen refused to be controlled, she could still be killed. After all, the traitor prince Hans had nearly managed it. The Duke's guards had nearly managed it. All it would take was one misstep from the Queen, one misuse of her powers, and that would be enough. His men would then have every justification they needed to strike. They would make it public, spectacularly so. Their zeal might well prove to be their undoing, but Larsson was quite willing to throw away tools he would no longer need. Especially when home would be coming to him within days.

There was an odd moment of pity for the Royal Princess, being used as such a pawn. Larsson shrugged, uncaring, remembering how naive the young woman really was. Perhaps this would teach her to be more worldly, less insufferably cheerful and optimistic. Less like herself, and more like the Queen had been, shut in and withdrawn. That would hurt Elsa greatly. The Duke would love that part of the plan, if it worked. It was the kind of wound that never healed, the perfect revenge for such a petty little man. Larsson smiled again, sealing the envelopes into which he had placed the orders and the ransom note. The note now bore the seal of Weselton—no point in hiding that fact now. The orders bore no marks, just a name: Lieutenant Mikkel Engberg.

* * *

Back in her study, Hank at her side, Elsa was questioning everything her snowman knew about how to find Anna. After the initial bout of optimism, it hadn't sounded anywhere near as useful as she'd hoped. Disappointment clawed at her heart as she realized how close she'd been to finding an actual solution, some sort of short cut to finding Anna. She smiled weakly, trying to reassure Olaf, it wasn't his fault—it was hers. Trying to keep her voice level, she asked the question again, she had to be _sure_.

"How do you know where Anna is?"

"Your magic," the answer remained the same.

"How?"

"You made me. You love her. The magic was always in her."

It was devastating to hear that, to know that the only reason Olaf had managed to find Anna was because she had been struck—more than once—by Elsa's magic. The implications were worse, because if it was only through her magic that Olaf could find Anna, then that meant he was essentially guessing right now. Elsa shivered, hugging her arms as the darker possibility continued to plague her mind. Maybe some of her own magic remained in her sister. Cursed ice, bound to her forever, a constant reminder of her transgressions against Anna. One way or another, the next answer she got from the little snowman would break her heart. She couldn't… she simply could not bring herself to ask the question that would let her know the truth; she was too afraid of the answer. Far too afraid. If anything happened to Anna because of her magic she didn't know if she'd be strong enough to stay this time.

Idiot. She cursed herself. She would stay for Anna, always, no matter what it cost her, because Anna was worth it. Worth every second of pain; every hour of heartache; every day of longing. Elsa needed her now, needed someone to come up with a crazy rescue plan. Knowing Anna it would involve… grappling hooks? rope? cannons? Elsa furrowed her brow in consternation. She knew Anna had read Flynn Rider, which meant—Elsa cursed silently. Anna had read Flynn Rider; how many times had her hero been trapped with nothing but his wits and managed to escape? And Elsa just _knew_ her sister would try and emulate her hero. She let out a shaky breath, noticing the ice spreading around her chair, lining the scoured walls and frosting the window. Dark thoughts crossed Elsa's mind when she realized her sister would be punished for such an attempt.

They wouldn't harm her physically—not much, she hoped—Anna was the Royal Princess after all, and they needed her as a bargaining chip. Elsa hated thinking of her sister in that way; Anna was a _person_ , not a pawn for politics or someone's revenge against her. But from her long and self-imposed imprisonment Elsa knew that there were many ways to break a person that didn't leave physical marks. Some did, but those healed—it was scars against the soul that wouldn't. And there was one thing she knew that could easily be used as punishment, wouldn't leave any marks, but could drive any girl to despair. She'd read it many times, in books and stories that had once been forbidden to her. After reading the first one, she understood why. She understood more when the woman which the second book was about had been driven to suicide. It wasn't something added to them, but something forcefully taken away.

Elsa was a virgin—completely, she'd never done _anything_ like that. Except apparently in her sleep. Once. She suspected Anna remained a virgin as well—her sister had never told her of consummating anything, and she couldn't resist leaving out details that greatly embarrassed Elsa. So that kind of punishment—if her first time was… violent—Elsa prayed that whatever else her captors were doing, they weren't doing _that_ to Anna. She prayed that they weren't like the evil men of the books she'd read. She prayed.

Ice coated the hand touching her shoulder and Elsa winced. Hank just exhaled softly. Elsa looked around, noticing the snowfall around the room. Some of the flakes still drifted lazily towards the floor. Elsa placed a hand over Hank's, frozen at her shoulder, with a breath she thawed the ice and reveled in the fact he didn't immediately pull away. It took her a moment to realize he'd been doing that most of the day, offering her silent support, saying very little, just… being there, for her. It was exactly what she'd needed. Even after icing him over in the morning, continually dusting him with snow and freezing his hands, he was still— _still_ —willing to reach out and reassure her. Even after the fear she'd seen flash behind his eyes in the morning—fear she hadn't been meant to see, she was quite sure—he still walked beside her, pushed her chair when she was tired, talked softly when she asked a question. But he never interrupted, never spoke first. It wasn't that he was trying to be distant or guarded—Elsa knew those moods all too well—it was that he was trying to be unobtrusive.

It was working, too. When she drifted off into her thoughts, she often forgot he was right there, beside her. She was often startled by his touch, and so her magic leapt to her defense. After all this time, all the progress she'd made with Anna, letting herself be touched—well, Anna was very 'hands on' when it came to demonstrations, and hard to dissuade—she was still reacting like this. Elsa was disappointed in herself. Disappointed in her control over her powers. Disappointed that if Anna were there, she would understand completely, and wouldn't judge her for it. Disappointed too, that she couldn't ask her little snowman one question—but there was something else she could ask. Something that likely had a less painful answer.

"Olaf?"

"Yes Elsa?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. No. Wait… what am I sure of?" the look of confusion wandering across Olaf's face was adorable, and Elsa couldn't help but smile. It was just a little smile, but Olaf caught it, smiling right back.

"Are you sure you know where Anna is?" she didn't add 'being kept prisoner'. Olaf didn't need to hear that.

"It's that way," Olaf pointed with absolute confidence. It was the same direction he'd pointed earlier. "But really far away. Like, I know she's there, but she's hard to see. Hey, have you got a telescope?"

"What?"

"So I can try and see her. It can't be that far away, right?"

"Olaf, I—" Elsa couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't think of anything else to say. She looked up at Hank, breath shallow, blue eyes silently pleading. Hank didn't know how to react. He'd seen panic attacks before—they could happen in combat all too easily. But he didn't have drills and training to fall back on here; to reassure his troops. All he had was instinct and manners. He had to do _something_. He knelt before the animated little snowman.

"Olaf, I need you to listen to me," he whispered to the snowman.

"Okay," Olaf whispered back. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because something you said has upset Queen Elsa. I do not know what, but I do not think it was your fault. Would you please leave us?"

"But I can't upset people—oh, she is sad. Because of me?" the little snowman was clearly confused. "But if I leave, who's going to give her warm hugs?"

Hank could hear Elsa behind him, her breathing ragged as her breath hitched in her throat. "Olaf, _please_ ; leave."

"Okay," the snowman sounded dejected. "You'll take care of her, right? Make her not sad?"

"I will," Hank promised, nodding to the little snowman.

"Okay, bye Elsa, bye Elsa's friend."

"Hank?" Elsa's voice was strained. Hank turned, transfixed by the longing her saw in the eyes of his Queen. It wasn't for him. It was for something—someone—that had been stolen from her. Someone that helped her remain calm. Someone whose sheer, exuberant energy formed the perfect counterpoint to her own taciturn and withdrawn nature. On the first day of his employment he'd learned some useful things about the bond the sisters shared. Foremost among them was how the Princess liked to touch—and be touched in return—and how this often seemed to make the Queen shift uncomfortably in her chair. It gave Hank the impression she didn't like being touched. Getting iced over or snowed on was also a good indicator of that.

Right now however, all Hank could see was the almost physical _need_ that Queen Elsa radiated. It made her uncomfortable, but he could see how much she really needed Princess Anna's touch. It was more than just a calming influence, it did something… special for the Queen. She needed that something right now, and Hank knew he was unable to provide it. Not just because he was not Princess Anna, but also because he had to follow the rules of propriety—and common sense. A bodyguard should not become romantically involved with his charge. It was unprofessional. But this was a unique situation, and he knew the Queen likely had no one else to call on for support. He was here, now, and the longing in her eyes drew him in. He knew he had to do something. Even if that something might risk putting an end to his brief tenure as the Queen's protector.

As he stood, immobile, the Queen leaned forwards, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around her stomach, hugging herself. He knew what was wrong, he didn't know why, but there was something he could do. Because at a time like this, no one deserved to be left alone with only their darkest thoughts for company. So, in his capacity as her friend, Hank Eriksson took an action that might compromise his capacity as her bodyguard. Propriety be damned, just this once, because it was the right thing to do. He knelt just to the side of Queen Elsa's icy chair, but she didn't seem to notice.

He extended his arms around her shoulders, not quite making contact with her—he wasn't sure quite how far he would be allowed to go in order to comfort the Queen. One hand gently patted her on the back. She leaned into his chest, the short movement made him instinctively tighten his arms around her, afraid she might fall from her chair. Hank was amazed he hadn't been iced over on the spot, or covered in snow—that was what normally seemed to happen after all. To have it not happen all of sudden was a little disconcerting. So was the feeling of ice moving across his back until he realized it must have been Elsa's hands—he could feel her arms wrapping around his sides.

All the rules he knew, everything he'd been raised to do, to follow; all of it railed against what he was doing. But for once he didn't care about those rules. Because Elsa—Queen Elsa—was not just a Queen. She was a sister. A woman in her own right. A person in need. A thought darted through Hank's mind that he might be taking advantage of Elsa in a moment of vulnerability. He dismissed it, because comforting someone while they were in pain was not taking advantage of anything. He was not using the Queen's sadness as an excuse to touch her or to get her to touch him. He was holding his friend Elsa in a comforting embrace because she was sad, and had silently asked for his support. He could never have refused such a request.

Elsa shifted slightly, and he felt her rest her chin on his shoulder. He could see nothing of her face, but he knew somehow that she had just closed her eyes. When she spoke, the whisper of her breath warmed his ear. Any reply he offered was likely to be false, but he thought she needed comfort more than truth in this moment.

"I miss Anna."

"Anna will be fine," it was a lie. Hank knew full well what was done to a lot of captives by various militaries—and sometimes, he was ashamed to admit, by Arendelle's own. But he believed in the young Princess's strength and vitality. If anyone could bounce back from something like that, it would be her. She'd recovered from the deepest kind of betrayal. She'd recovered from being frozen to death—literally—by her own sister. She'd survived the loss of her arm and had been entertainingly active within a day according to Elsa. Princess Anna was irrepressible.

"Will she?" Elsa's tone informed Hank that what he'd just said was clearly not the right thing to say. Elsa gently broke the embrace, straightening herself in her chair before looking at Hank. "How can you be sure?"

"I cannot be sure with any certainty, aside from what you have mentioned in your stories, your majesty. I thought it something you needed to hear."

"Something I needed…" Elsa frowned, disappointed. Hank closed his eyes, knowing it was directed at him.

"Everything you have told me about has been about her strengths, your majesty. I only wanted to—"

"Help. I know, Hank. I know," Elsa smiled wistfully. "Anna _is_ strong. But I'm afraid of what those men might be doing to her."

"I did not think you would wish to hear the truth of how some soldiers are like to treat their captives. There are many that believe in the saying that 'all is fair in war'. I did not wish to burden you with such knowledge, your majesty."

Elsa shook her head sadly. "The knowledge is already my burden, and it weighs heavy upon my shoulders, lieutenant Erikson. I thank you for attempting to spare me that burden; remember that I respect candor, not comforting lies, although both have their place in this world. I–I would like to be alone for some time."

"Queen Elsa, are you alright?"

"No, Hank, I'm not. Please, just give me some time to work all this out," she relented upon seeing his worried expression. "You don't have to go far—you can wait in the hall if you close the door behind you."

Hank opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and just nodded. He left without another word, quietly closing the door behind him. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow managed to mess up everything between Elsa and himself. Not because he'd touched her either, but because he'd held back for so long at first—did she think _he_ was cold and distant? Insensitive? He sighed, leaning against the wall. If he managed to work up the courage to ignore the social strictures between them again, he would ask her. She appreciated candor—or would she see it as prying? He sighed again, standing ill at ease, watching the door to Queen Elsa's study.

* * *

In another castle, somewhere to the northwest of Arendelle, Princess Anna was preparing what she was sure would be the first of many escape attempts. Because even Flynn Rider didn't always get out on the first try, and she wasn't nearly as swashbuckling as he was. It was a real shame, as when she was younger Anna had thought she would make an excellent sidekick for Flynn Rider. All those adventures in the courtyard and across the rooftops of the garden sheds. She heard the door being unlatched and was already psyching herself up to make a break for it. She stood against the front wall, on the side of the door opposite the hinges. Her captors would have to come into the cell to find her. That was the first part of step one.

The soldier guarding her cell stepped inside, looking around for her. His head met the bucket swung by Princess Anna with a resounding clang. The noise seemed to echo up the hall. The man collapsed like a sack of potatoes, his fall nearly bowling Anna over as she danced out of the way. She tripped on his elbow and threw out her hands to arrest her fall. A jolt of pain ran through her left shoulder, leaving her wondering why her right shoulder didn't hurt in quite the same way. Because she'd forgotten about her injury. Again. She scrambled to her feet, searching for the next part of the plan. There. The blanket. And her guard had a dagger in his belt too.

Time for a change of plans—she hadn't thought she'd be able to get a weapon so easily. Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Dagger; blanket; bucket—she couldn't decide. She needed to get out of here, but she didn't want to kill anyone. Not again. Never again. She could take a hostage, but that wouldn't work so well with only one arm. Hide something? That might work, but she had to be fast. The footsteps were too close and Anna had only just managed to take hold of the blanket. She whipped round, the blanket unfolding in mid-air as the guard tried to bat it it away. It was all the opening she needed.

The blanket fell from his eyes and the last thing the guard saw was a small, almost dainty, fist approaching his face at high speed. It connected with a loud crack and he fell backwards, stumbling against the wall. That was when everything rang like a bell and his lights went out. Anna watched him fall, dropping the bucket. It now had a rather pronounced crease along one side where she'd managed to strike both men with it. Even better, this guard was also carrying a dagger. Why was everyone carrying a dagger?

It didn't matter, but the groan coming from the other side of her cell did. Anna ripped off the belt, took both daggers she'd been unwittingly provided with, and ran into the corridor. A narrow stone corridor, open at one end, lined with heavy wooden doors crossed by iron banding. Sunlight shone through a window beyond the opening at the end of the corridor. Shadows lined the wall, but it was the only way out. She had a dagger in her hand, and another hanging at her hip. She hoped it would be enough. It would have to be—that, and her determination to see Elsa again. She wasn't going to let these men keep her away from her sister any longer. Not if she had a chance to do anything about it.

The stone floor was cold against her feet, but being barefoot meant she moved a lot more quietly. Something else she'd learned from Flynn Rider. The shadows at the end of the corridor continued moving, but made no sound. Anna didn't have time to think about why—even though Joan would have insisted on it. She rushed through the door, looking left—nothing, looking right—two of her captors, one next to a staircase. They were both drawing weapons and shouting that she was loose—she'd show them _loose_. She remembered the dagger in her hand. You could throw daggers, right? She nodded to herself. Flynn Rider did it all the time. Unfortunately he was a swashbuckling hero in adventure books; she was the Royal Princess of Arendelle who had been kidnapped in order to control her sister. That did it.

The dagger flew from her hand, spinning through the air before thudding into the guard near the stairs. The problem was he got hit in the shoulder. With the blunt end of the dagger. Anna cursed, frantically drawing her other dagger as the other guard advanced menacingly on her, sword drawn. There was no way that was a fair fight and Anna's mind railed against the notion. But these men were keeping her from Elsa; trying to use her to control Elsa. There was no way she'd let them see her fear, only her determination—and more than a little anger.

Which was why her first move was to rush towards the closest guard, using the stump of her right arm and the sleeve of her shirt to knock away and hopefully entangle his blade. Her second move was to slam her knee into his crotch. Hard. She could have sworn the man went cross-eyed before he collapsed. He wouldn't be much use in the fight for a while—it might even be enough time to try and escape past those stairs. Of course she would have to deal with the other guard first, which was going to be quite difficult considering she was now sprawled on the ground—wait, what?

The guard she had kneed in the crotch offered up a weak laugh, and Anna rolled sideways, avoiding a hand grabbing for her and wildly kicking out as she rose, collecting the second guard's shin. The blow wasn't nearly as effective as she'd hoped due to the the man's boots. On her feet again, she circled the other man warily, trying to place his back to the corridor, and hers to the stairs. It was classic Flynn Rider; back your opponent into a corner, then run like hell because you had a plan and they didn't. All she needed now was a moment of surprise. One of the guards from her cell staggered to the end of the corridor, shouting about her escaping. She threw the dagger she was holding at the distracted guard.

She heard a grunt of pain, but by then she was already at the top of the stairs, sliding across the unusually heavy bolt on the door. Like the other doors it was wooden, with iron bands. It really reinforced the idea that she was being kept in a dungeon—and an old one at that. The door unbolted, she pulled it open, cursing and frantic footsteps chasing her across the landing and through the portal. A giant shadow crossed her field of view and then she was met with a slap so violent it slammed her head into the wall behind her. She bit her lip and tasted blood. Her blood.

Enraged, she threw a punch she was sure could have broken bones. It never connected. Anna could feel a large, rough hand gripping her wrist like a vise. She reacted by pulling her arm down sharply, trying to break the man's grip as she sent a kick towards his groin. He stepped closer, one foot landing between hers as he turned sideways, avoiding the blow. Pain exploded in her stomach and she doubled over, retching. This wasn't how her escape attempt was supposed to end. She was supposed to get further—the guards were supposed to chase her, not wait in ambush—but the part of her mind not filled with pain reminded her that she was _not_ Flynn Rider, and this was _not_ a story. She gasped in pain when a boot slammed into her right side, and she felt something crack with the blow.

She wanted to curl up in a ball. Make the pain go away. But then these men would laugh at her; laugh at her like Hans had. She'd never give them the satisfaction. She tried to rise, receiving another kick to the ribs—but not as savage as the first one had been. She fell to her knees, her left hand the only thing keeping her from the floor. She'd thought these men weren't allowed to harm her. Someone had changed the rules. She still wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken. She was going to fight—she would never back down from a fight.

She stood. Her captors laughed, one of them whistled appreciatively. She knew she must look a sight, rough clothes, probably torn in the fighting, messed up hair, blood dribbling from her lip, her one arm clutched protectively around her stomach. Fire burned in her eyes as she took in the faces of every man in the room. Details about the room. Medium sized for a castle. Stone walls. Windows, high up. No curtains. No banners on the walls. Furniture hewn roughly from logs and planks. Dim, dusty, dank smells mixed with the coppery tang of her own blood. This place was _old_.

"Told you she was feisty," one of the soldiers said.

"You weren't lying, she's got some real fire in her. Pity she's on the wrong side here," Anna heard admiration mixed with pity in that voice. It sounded vaguely familiar—perhaps this was their commander, Mikkel?

"Hey, Mikkel, I thought you said 'unharmed'?" a different soldier asked.

"Well, we had to stop her escaping. She'll have a few bruises—she'll think twice before she tries anything like that again."

"You should think twice before you ever lay a hand on me again," Anna laced all her anger and conviction through those words. "Because if you don't, I'll kill you."

Anna hadn't moved—there were too many—she knew her odds of escaping now were useless, so she stood there, accepting the fact that she was still a captive. For now. She was also using the time to study the room, both Flynn and Joan would have told her to do that. She needed to know for her next plan. The further she got, the further she could get. The soldiers holding her seemed somewhat impressed with her, not because she was a princess who could fight; it seemed they were impressed with the fact she wouldn't back down.

"You are a little spitfire, aren't you?" Mikkel asked, backhanding her across the cheek. Tears stung her eyes from the pain, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. "Hah, good. You don't know when you're beaten." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "They said 'unharmed'; well, I think we're going to change those orders. You've got too much spirit for your own good—and any escapees should be punished appropriately; shouldn't they?"

The men surrounding her laughed, and Anna suddenly felt very small, but the fire still blazed in her heart. "You'll pay for everything you do to me. I swear it by the gods of old. Elsa _loved_ me, and she froze my heart. How do you think she's going to kill you?"

It was all bravado. Anna knew she couldn't kill—she never wanted to again. She was more than certain that Elsa felt the same way, especially if it was her powers. But these men didn't know that. They couldn't.

"It doesn't matter," Mikkel wore a satisfied smirk. "She'll be too dead to care."


	34. Forlorn Elysium

**Trigger Warnings for Violence, Corporal Punishment, and (Psychological) Torture**

* * *

Elsa would probably be in her study, Kristoff knew that much from previous trips to the castle. The study that had been stripped bare by her powers when she learned that Anna had been taken by those soldiers. The study he and Kai had barely escaped from in time to avoid a similar fate. The study where Olaf and the marine that had sat by Elsa's side the previous night were currently waiting. Kristoff began to wonder if his plan to talk with the Queen was actually a good idea. Because if Olaf and the marine had been forced out, well, it meant Elsa wanted to be alone—and might be having trouble controlling her powers. The frost coating the outside of the door lent credence to that theory. Now he didn't dare interrupt up the Queen, not until she'd managed to get her powers under control—all it would take was a little time.

The marine stepped out between the door and Kristoff, obviously intending to bar his path. Looking the man up and down, Kristoff figured he'd probably be able to take him in a fight—while the marine's height gave him extra reach, Kristoff knew he had at least an extra twenty pounds of muscle at his back. But now was not the time. From the set of the man's jaw and the determination in his steel grey eyes it was obvious he was only attempting to protect the Queen. Kristoff shrugged, extending his hand. The marine took a moment to respond, eyeing Kristoff warily, then gave the hand a single, firm shake.

"Lieutenant Henrik Eriksson, Queen's Protector."

"Uhh, Kristoff Bjorgman," Kristoff replied uncertainly. Adding his own 'title' after a moment. "Official Ice Master and Deliverer."

"The Queen wishes to be left alone."

Kristoff gestured at the ice on the door. "Got that."

"So why are you still here?"

Kristoff grunted in response, leaning back against the wall. "Anna."

"You have news?"

"No I–I care about her, a lot. I want to help."

"Then get out there and help," Lieutenant Eriksson gestured towards the gates. "Marshal Gerhardt could use every able bodied citizen willing to assist in the search."

"I already told you where Anna is," Olaf piped up, lifting his head to look between the two men. He nodded, head held up in his hands, pointing with his nose. "She's that way."

"You're sure?" Kristoff questioned the little snowman.

"Yep," Olaf dropped his head back onto his body.

"Show me."

"Okay, this way Kristoff," Olaf was practically skipping. "Let's go find Anna!"

* * *

That had been four hours ago. Now thoroughly exhausted from trudging through the border forest, Kristoff wished he'd thought to bring someone—anyone—with him to help. Olaf was quietly rambling about butterflies as the trees began to thin. Kristoff had no idea where they were, but he knew it was no longer within the borders of Arendelle. Given the position of the setting sun, and the few stars that were now rising, it had to be somewhere northwest of the kingdom. The ground ahead of them was mostly flat rock, with a few patches of grass stubbornly holding out against the barren soil. Even the trees seemed smaller on this side of the forest.

Up ahead, held in shadow by the moonlight, was a large stone building. It wasn't big enough to be a castle, that much Kristoff was sure of. It had two sets of walls, outer and inner. Gates, turrets, slits around the upper level of the central stone building. Crenellations. But it was still too small to be a castle, even a keep. Kristoff spent a moment racking his brains, thinking of all sorts of stone buildings. It was on the border—of course, it was a border fort. A distant twang was followed by a high pitched whistle.

"Oh, look at that, I've been shot," Olaf wandered blithely back into the forest, a crossbow bolt sticking out the side of his head. Kristoff scanned the walls of the fort but could not find the soldier that had fired the shot. He stepped back as another twang echoed through the night. The bolt slammed into the tree next to him with a solid thunk. Whoever these people were, they were making it very clear they didn't want to be found. That was when he heard the scream. It was distant, carried softly on the wind. It was also unmistakeable.

Anna.

He wanted to brave the storm of bolts, crash through the door and lay waste to every last one of the soldiers inside that fort. Something slashed at his thigh, and another bolt thudded into the dirt ahead of him. Kristoff turned and ran. He had to force himself to place one foot in front of the other. Had to keep telling himself that there was nothing he could do. That getting himself killed was not going to help the Princess. But that scream—he swore, crashing through the undergrowth, stumbling over roots and stones. He felt so helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do—right now at any rate. It was like the whole world was conspiring against him, first getting shot in the arm during the ambush, pinned to the remains of his sled. Now this, being forced back by a hail of crossbow bolts.

A fallen log sent him sprawling, cracking his head against a nearby tree root. He saw stars, his vision swimming as Olaf stood over him. He couldn't see the actual stars, the canopy overhead was too dense. He could hear water though, running water. He needed a drink, needed a moment to clear his head. Slowly getting to his feet Kristoff rubbed his injured head. He really needed to stop hitting things with it. He rolled his eyes, heading in the direction of the stream.

The water was cool and clear, refreshing as he splashed some over his face before cupping his hands to take a drink. Anna's scream still echoed in his mind, and it took a great effort not to sprint back and try to storm the fort. He needed backup. Someone who could take out the crossbowmen, someone who could help him storm the castle. He also needed to tell Elsa—she had a right to know where her sister was now that he knew. It was going to be a long walk back to the castle.

"I don't think they liked me," Olaf walked beside Kristoff. The bolt was still sticking out of the snowman's head. One of his stick arms reached up to pull it out. He was about to toss it aside when Kristoff took hold of it. It would prove useful when telling Elsa what happened. They just had to get back to the castle. Given how long it had taken them to reach the fort Kristoff figured he wouldn't be able to reach the castle again before midnight, if even then. He would ask Kai for a bed, ask to talk with Elsa first thing in the morning, and then he would crash out. His mind made up, Kristoff continued his trudge through the woods, wishing he had Sven for company—and to ride, because getting through these places on foot took far too long.

* * *

Anna screamed again, fire ripping across her spine. Her captors no longer cared if she was unharmed. After her escape attempt—and trying to slug that smug bastard Mikkel in his stupid smiling stupid face when he'd threatened Elsa—she'd been thrown back in her cell. Apparently the soldiers keeping her here had gotten some kind of delivery, because they immediately started treating her a lot more roughly, falling just shy of actually abusing her whenever they got the chance. But they'd kept their word about punishment. They'd waited until late afternoon, and then they simply hadn't stopped—they just paced themselves.

The night air was growing cold, and Anna could feel her exposed flesh beginning to get goosebumps. She could feel the the rough wood of the flagpole pressing into her chest between her bare breasts. She could feel the coarse fibers of the rope binding her arms around the flagpole—they'd actually had to improvise a bit there, in the end they just hooked the rope around her right shoulder and lashed it around to her left wrist. It worked well enough that she couldn't wriggle away from the flagpole. They'd taken her shirt and her bra. Most of them had taken the time to grab at handfuls of her flesh as well. At least they'd left her with her pants.

Then she'd heard the first crack as the sun was sinking low towards the horizon. Fire burned across her back and she cried out in pain. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she wasn't going to give these bastards the satisfaction. Not ever. Fire still burned in a line across her back, and she could feel something warm running down her back in thin trails. Warm and sticky. She knew then that the whip had made her bleed. It had continued to do so all evening. She could hear the men wandering around, talking loudly about nothing important—occasionally swapping stories about fights—and every so often footsteps would approach, and she'd hear that crack. The moon was rising, more than a crescent but less than a half. If she turned her head to the left she could just see flashes of green and blue as the northern lights danced overhead. She wondered if Elsa was watching them too.

Her back was on fire, and Anna was sure it was also covered with blood. Parts of her flesh still felt warm and sticky compared to the chill hanging in the night air. She shivered, the motion sending a wave of pain rippling down her back. Tears stung her eyes again, but she was determined not to let these men see her cry. She wasn't going to let them win. She was going to _fight_. Even if all she could was not cry, she would do that. The voices had stopped, well, not stopped, but they'd certainly grown a lot fainter. Anna craned her neck, looking around to see if anyone was still there.

They weren't. Had they forgotten about her so easily? Of course not. So why—dinner, perhaps? Then shouldn't they offer her food of some kind? They had given her bread, water, and the driest slice of salted meat she'd ever tasted for lunch. What were they doing, leaving her out here, her back bleeding, bound to a flagpole? Oh, right, they were punishing her. She had tried to escape after all—but she still thought the number of lashes they'd given her was excessive.

By the time an hour had passed, she tried shouting for their attention. Nothing. Well, she thought it had been hour, but it could have been less. They'd left her out here, cold, alone, bound and bleeding. A thought was forming in the back of her mind that her captors were doing this deliberately. It wasn't just to hurt her either—they were trying to hurt Elsa. Resting her forehead against the cold wood of the flagpole Anna knew they'd already succeeded. Elsa cared about her deeply, and seeing her hurt would hurt Elsa immensely, especially as she wasn't able to do anything about it. With a grim surety Anna knew her sister would blame herself yet again for Anna being hurt by something beyond her control.

The chill of the night deepened, and after what she thought to be several hours, Anna shouted for attention once more. The soldiers guarding her—now inside the little castle she was strung up inside the walls of—remained willfully ignorant of her cries. She asked to be let in—politely, even. She cajoled and threatened. Nothing brought any kind of response. There were people, maybe a hundred yards away, and they just didn't care. They didn't care anymore. They were shutting her out because, for some reason, they didn't need her. She was useless to them now. At least Elsa's reasons made sense. They hurt, but Elsa was only trying to stop her from hurting more.

As she thought warmly of her sister, hopefully safe and sound under a pile of blankets, something small and cold struck her shoulder. A moment later it rolled down her back. Another hit her hair, leaving a tiny damp patch. It wasn't snow, and for some reason she was disappointed. But there was that smell in the air, one she'd always loved. It brought tears to her eyes when she realized how normal it was. Nobody could see those tears now, and she let them fall. Even if someone had been watching they wouldn't have noticed. After all, who can see tears amongst the rain. Anna smiled sadly as the cool water caressed her back, taking away some of the pain she felt. Some of the physical pain. The hurt caused by her separation from her sister was much deeper.

The rain was brief, but the cold water had been refreshing. She felt a little cleaner. The rain was nice, but she still wanted snow. That would mean Elsa was nearby, was looking for her. Elsa would know by now—she had to—because she'd been missing for two days. Or this might only have been the second day. Anna wasn't sure. She had no real way of telling the time without a clock or a calendar somewhere. The rain had brought a fresh problem with it; it reminded Anna how badly she needed to relieve her bladder. She spent the next ten minutes shouting about that, trying to get someone to pay attention to her. No one did.

Not too long after that, shifting uncomfortably against the flagpole, was when it happened. Despite her attempts to cross her legs, to think of something else, to put it out of her mind, it had been a futile battle. Her body's need outweighed her mind's protests. She felt the warm trickle inside the leg of her trousers and her cheeks coloured in mortification as tears of embarrassment burned in her eyes. But she wasn't sad. She wasn't going to let this break her—things like these happened sometimes, or they had when she was three or four. She was angry. Angry and resentful. Leaving her alone and in the dark wasn't going to hurt her.

She hurled a string of invective that would have impressed any nearby sailors towards the stone building behind her. She was quite sure Elsa would have been thoroughly unimpressed to learn she knew those words—and how to use them. That little moment covered, she began with some threats about Elsa's powers—they didn't know her sister wouldn't do that, so Anna made use of the most horrible depictions of death by icicle she could think of. In hindsight it had not been the smartest thing to do, because when she finished her tirade she sort of started imagining all those things happening to _her_ , with Elsa being unable to stop it. And then, in utter despair over killing her sister a second time, Elsa had…

Anna wouldn't let herself finish that thought. She screwed her eyes shut against the image, but it moved of its own accord. And now Elsa lay in an icy courtyard, her limbs bent at odd angles, her neck twisted around and the back of her head. Anna didn't want to think about these things, but her mind wouldn't let her look away. Blood… so much blood. Broken bones and twisted limbs. The blank expression on Elsa's face. The emptiness behind her eyes.

"It's not real," and now she was talking to herself again. Wonderful.

"It's not real!" she had to convince herself that this was only a really bad thought, not something that could actually happen. Except pretty much the last conversation she'd had with Elsa had been about exactly that— _and_ Elsa had wanted to talk to her. Was it possible Elsa thought she'd run away, trying to avoid the issue? Anna shivered. If that was the case then it would take her a lot longer to be found. She needed a new escape plan. She needed to get back to Elsa, to make sure her sister was alright. But how?

"Okay, ropes. They're wet. Nope, can't slide through them. Ugh, and that one's itchy too. Oh, wonderful, they tied my ankles to the ground and around the flagpole. Guess they actually learned how to keep a prisoner in place. Pity. So, did anything like this ever happen to Flynn Rider?"

Anna spent a moment going through the swashbuckling hero's adventures in her head. "Well, sort of. But his feet weren't tied to the ground so he could shimmy up the pole. So what can I do?"

That left her straining against her bonds and shifting uncomfortably against the flagpole for a good quarter of an hour. "I can get splinters," she muttered in disgust, feeling the wood pricking into her chest, and one in particular lodged just between her breasts on the left side of her chest. "Really evil, pointy, annoying splinters. But I can't move. I just can't move."

Anna sighed heavily, resting her forehead against the cool wood of the flagpole. It just wasn't fair. She wasn't supposed to be hurt like this. She was a princess, the Royal Princess of Arendelle. She was supposed to be above such things—or so certain fairytales had led her to believe. She knew they weren't real, but she'd wanted to believe. Now; now life was just being cruel, and she hated it, hated every minute of it. She was the strong, positive princess. Strong, plucky, and more than a little awkward. She didn't feel particularly brave or strong at that moment. She had awkward covered though, what with the smell and the slightly damp warmth in the leg of her pants. She sighed again, biting back tears.

"Elsa," she called softly into the night. Anna wanted to feel her sister next to her so badly in that moment. She wanted Elsa to cradle her in her arms and brush her hair; tell her everything was going to be okay. It didn't matter if it was a lie. Anna just wanted her sister's company—anyone's company. Even Joan didn't have any suggestions this time—but Joan had a thing against being tied to large poles, with or without an audience. Anna's thoughts drifted back to her sister, hoping that she was handling everything fine in her absence—she knew that was probably untrue as well. This was the first time they'd been forcibly separated since the reunion on the ice. Sure, there were times they'd turned their backs on each other recently, but Anna knew there was always the option of reaching out again, simply walking over to her sister's room.

But this? This was torture. And if she felt like this, how must Elsa have felt? She didn't like to admit it, but Anna knew there were some ways that Elsa simply was not as strong as her. Handling negative emotions was one of those areas. Same with handling loss. They did… bad things to Elsa. Thinking about those things left scars against Anna's soul. There was no way she could help Elsa. That was the worst part—she wanted to help, she knew she could help, yet she was utterly helpless to do so, at the mercy of these savages. The first quiet sob wracked her body and sapped her strength, but Anna didn't care. Not if that strength was going where it was most needed.

"Elsa, please, be strong for me," there was a long pause, another sob. "I love you."

* * *

Watching from one of the windows of the fort, Mikkel Engberg smiled. It was working, just like he told the men it would. All his plan had needed was a little more time. This way they also saved the more creative punishments for if the Princess staged another escape attempt. Mikkel had to admit to being somewhat impressed by her first attempt on that very morning. Hastily put together but surprisingly effective for its part. It showed that this royal at least had the ability to think on her feet and improvise when things went wrong. She had improvised pretty well at that—Mikkel wished a few more of the soldiers under his command had that kind of drive and initiative.

"Look," Mikkel gestured to the window. "I told you it would work."

"Fine," Pelle grunted.

"Still faster ways to break her," Sten offered.

"No, there aren't," Mikkel addressed Sten. "Our orders say 'Unspoiled' now."

"Yeah, but they used to say unharmed. What if they change again?"

"We're trying to break the Queen here you numbskull. We have to make her angry enough to lose control completely. Don't know why, but apparently his highness wants another blizzard to fall on Arendelle. Best way to break the Queen is to break her sister out there—without leaving any scars from the breaking," Mikkel had a cruel smirk etched on his face. "Or would you prefer her wrath be directed at you and you alone for how you defiled her sister, Sten?"

Silence reigned.

"About time you used that organ between your ears. Now you understand why no one here is doing that. Not unless they happen to have a very specific deathwish involving blizzards and icicles. Frankly I'm not sure how many of those threats she made are even possible, but better safe than sorry. I'd rather not be impaled by a supremely pissed off witch-queen."

* * *

Somewhat earlier in the day, in the small ecclesiastical office beside the chapel, both the Bishop of Arendelle and the High Justicar were deep in conversation.

"That is deeply concerning, Clarence," Justicar Kristoffersen addressed the Bishop's most recent point. It had been about possible political motives for such a kidnapping. The Bishop had also tied into Kristoffersen's own theory about foreign interests trying to dethrone or kill the Queen. It painted quite the disturbing picture. "So you're saying that these men—we're assuming it's more than one now, by the way—are actually politically motivated in their actions; the use of religion is just a cover?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying, Hanne. I still have no idea what happened to the first group, but something tells me their disappearance happening before this new group showing up was not a coincidence. Given what we know of the Queen's powers—and how some have decided to interpret them—I think it time we present a united front to our enemies, whoever they may be."

"Weselton, in this case, Clarence. The Queen did, in fact, place that crest upon the table during the meeting."

"I know Hanne, I know. I'm thinking ahead here, as not all of our neighbours have been so understanding of us having a queen with such powers. It is, as you rightly say, Weselton today, but what of tomorrow, or the next day?"

"You're starting to sound like Gerhardt."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

Kristoffersen laughed. "No, I guess not Clarence. Not with the current state of affairs. So, presenting a united front… you have an idea?"

"These men we both are so concerned with, I think we find them, and denounce them for their crimes—just as they plan to do with Queen Elsa. They would attempt to incite a riot—or at least form a lynch mob. I want neither of those on my conscience—not when they would perverting the course of justice, both divine and mundane. The scriptures say to love thy neighbour, whoever he might be. They also urge us to repent for our sins, and the sins of others, such that all may be saved. I strongly believe Queen Elsa is worth saving, and they often say that charity begins at home."

"Just what are you planning, Clarence?"

"When we are no longer under threat, and if the Queen herself agrees, we shall have a public ceremony where I shall personally offer Queen Elsa the clemency of the Divine. It will be an act of unconditional forgiveness, and as word spreads our neighbours will learn that we accept Queen Elsa's powers as part of her person, and that we accept that, like us, she too is human, and capable of making mistakes.

"I hope also to assuage any guilt the Queen might still feel after the coronation incident; and for the private discussion we shared after the previous council meeting. I will admit that there is a little selfish consideration in there, but is it wrong to desire forgiveness for one's past transgressions?"

"Of course not Clarence. You're a good man, and I'm sure the Queen will understand your reasons," Justicar Kristoffersen smiled warmly. "I don't think she'll like the crowd though, seems to make her a touch nervous."

"I think, if we extended the invitation to Princess Anna as well, all will be fine."

"Speaking thereof, old friend, do you think we should be assisting Marshal Gerhardt in his search?"

"No, Hanne, I do not. Your skills are much more suited for finding domestic threats and unrest—and of course the average lawbreaker. My skills I prefer to see as inspirational to the laity of Arendelle. They might not be so effective given those attempting to unseat our current monarch, but I have a feeling there is someone else trying to undermine my words."

"I wish I could tell you there was, Clarence, but I don't think those undermining you have religious agendas."

"No, that would be too easy," Bishop Gudbrand smiled, jotting a note in his ledger. He despised politics—not so the council, and certainly not the Queen—but what politics did when mixed with errant religious notions. He sighed. It was never easy setting things straight, but he would keep trying until everyone in Arendelle could accept the Queen at least as well as he had. That would be worth more than any act of divine clemency he could offer. There was one more proactive course he and the Justicar could run this evening; and who knew, it might prove to be the most useful thing they could do after all.

"Hanne," Bishop Gudbrand closed his ledger, carefully locking it in the top drawer of his desk. "We have some misguided fools we need to set back upon the path of righteousness; will you help me?"

Justicar Kristoffersen placed his own notebook within the inner pocket of his waistcoat—the notebook was a small volume bound in red leather and wrapped with a black ribbon, very different the ledger he normally carried to such meetings with the Bishop. Gudbrand had smiled when he first saw the notebook—it meant Kristoffersen had already suspected what they would talk about. Now the Justicar was standing, his hand extended for a friendly shake to close the meeting. Gudbrand took the proffered hand and shook. Kristoffersen gestured to the door as his hand fell.

"Shall we?"


	35. Unforseen Difficulties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping this A/N as it serves as a warning to myself for "Things Man Was Not Meant To Know".
> 
> AN: Because finishing an update at one am was always a good plan. Well, it was the best plan I had—writing this has been something of a monster, and I'm still not happy with parts of it. And I wish hadn't researched torture for the Dark!fic parts of this because a) I couldn't use them, they were just too brutal/gruesome/permanent/fatal, and b) because learning that stuff was deeply unsettling. Originally this chapter was going to have a different, more damaging ending, but I simply couldn't do it. Don't know if that makes me weaker or stronger for it.

**Trigger Warnings for Torture, Violence**

* * *

Reaching the edge of the border forest, Kristoff immediately turned towards the castle, intending to tell Queen Elsa everything he'd just learned. It was also well into the night by now, and he wasn't sure if he could make it to the castle before midnight. He could circle around to the heartwood though, pass through the Valley of the Living Rock. Maybe Sven would be waiting for him. It would be nice to visit his family again, he hadn't been back in a while, busy making deliveries to the nearby towns—which was going to be rather more difficult given that his sled, the really fancy one Anna had gifted to him, was now lying in several hundred pieces of splintered wood and twisted metal banding. He could go there, he remembered where the ambush was—maybe the soldiers had even left a guard, a guard he could beat some answers out of. That would definitely cure some of the helpless frustration he currently felt at being unable to help Princess Anna.

There was a brief burst of rain, just enough to leave his clothes damp. As the rain eased, Kristoff saw the remains of his sled up ahead. In the pale moonlight he could also make out the small mounds that were the bodies of the fallen soldiers. The ambush came back to him in vivid flashes. The thunk of a crossbow bolt slamming into the sled. The explosion. Sven bolting for the forest. Anna helping the guard from the pile of wreckage the sled had become. The fight. Kristoff rubbed his arm—he remembered the errant bolt piercing his arm and pinning him to the side of the sled. He remembered being forced to watch as the captain of the palace guard had died by degrees, taking several of the Weseltonian soldiers with him.

What he did not remember was an immobile mass of tawny fur lying next to the sled. What was left of the sled anyway. The fur resolved itself into the form of a reindeer, standing slowly as Olaf called his name. Kristoff waited patiently for his oldest friend to turn around. He expected being tackled by Sven, fighting the urge to laugh as Oalf's various body parts were strewn across the path to the heartwood. Kristoff felt a weight lifting from his shoulders; Sven was safe. Kristoff wrapped his arms around the reindeer's neck in a big hug.

"I almost didn't recognize you without the prongs."

_"I missed you too,"_ and Sven nuzzled Kristoff's pocket, trying to steal a snack.

"Sorry buddy, I don't have any carrots on me—but Olaf does." The snowman screamed in terror and hid beneath the ruins of the sled, clutching his nose tightly. No way was he letting his most precious appendage get eaten by a hungry reindeer. Kristoff laughed at the sight, Olaf's feet kicking up in the air as he tried to bury himself even deeper.

_"I couldn't find you_ , _"_ Sven seemed to hang his head in shame. _"Did you look for Anna?"_

"I did—just now. I had to tell Elsa first."

_"Why not rescue Anna first?"_

"Because I can't fight off a dozen soldiers with crossbows, and I hate it. I just felt so _useless_."

_"But you know where Anna is now?"_

"That's what I said, buddy. But… crossbows. They shot at me again," Kristoff gestured to the fresh bandage around his thigh. "I don't want to be a human pincushion."

_"But you still want to save her."_

"Of course I do; I just don't know _how_."

_"Ask Elsa."_

"You're smarter than you look, you know that buddy?" Sven was suddenly prancing around, knocking into Kristoff and nearly bowling him over.

Kristoff yawned. He knew he was tired, and so was Sven—even if the reindeer didn't look that tired right now; they needed somewhere safe to sleep. Anywhere, really, as long as it had a roof and maybe some hay to bed down on. Come to think of it, there was a small barn not far outside town—and not too far from where they were now. The owner was even one of the nice people that didn't always throw him out. He rose, patting Sven and dragging Olaf out from the ruins of the sled. Olaf's arm at least. The rest of the snowman followed when Kristoff assured him he'd only been joking about having Sven eat his nose.

"Alright, think we can make old Ralf's barn before midnight?"

* * *

Morning. It was morning. Judging by the sunlight shafting in through he window it was early morning, but Elsa didn't mind. She never had because she often needed the time to compose herself, to collect all her thoughts and prepare for the day ahead. To dress herself in isolation, lest she let slip about her powers if someone were to contact her. It was all different now, and Elsa craved her sister's touch as she rolled towards the side of the bed. Her own bed, not Anna's. She'd been surprised to sleep through the night, and to sleep calmly at that, given the worries plaguing her mind about what the soldiers of Weaseltown might be doing to her sister.

Her room felt empty. Anna wasn't there to greet her with a sleepy smile and a warm hug. Hank wasn't there as a reassuring presence. Even Kristoff, worried about her state of mind, was absent. In a lot of ways it felt like a return to the old days, and she hated every minute of it. She spent some time dragging herself upright, using her pillows as a backrest. She needed some time to think. Two days ago Anna had been taken, kidnapped by soldiers from Weaseltown. It had hurt; learning that. It left an ache against her soul every time she thought of Anna, of what those soldiers might be doing to her sister. But she'd had time to think, to reason it out, and Elsa was fairly certain there was a political motivation behind kidnapping her sister.

If, for some reason, it had been Prince Hans of the Southern Isles she would have accepted it as a private vendetta against her, meaning to hurt her as much as possible. But it was not Hans. It was the Duke of Weaseltown, and so, knowing how the Duke hated magic, she suspected that this might in fact be an attempt to dethrone her. It was still possible that Anna was supposed to be used as a bargaining chip, but Elsa couldn't think of anything she'd done to offend Weaseltown—aside from quite reasonably cutting off trade due to the Duke's own bodyguards trying to kill her.

A knock at her door stirred Elsa from her thoughts. "Your Majesty?" It was Gerda.

"Good morning, Gerda. I–I require your help."

The door cracked open, and Gerda stepped inside, quietly closing it behind her. "I suspected you might have need of me, given that Princess Anna is… absent."

"Gerda, please," Elsa spoke sharply as the servant lifted her into her chair. "You need not walk on eggshells around me. I _can_ control my powers when I hear bad news—the other night was just… a shock."

"Queen Elsa, I did not mean to imply that you were unable to control your powers; I was simply trying to be respectful of the fact you would not want to hear it again and again."

"I don't want to hear it, Gerda," Elsa sighed in her chair, wheeling herself towards the bathroom. "But I have to. Anna was kidnapped—and that also implies that she was kidnapped for a reason. And that, in turn, means I am likely to receive a note containing ransom demands— _that_ is when I would more likely lose control, just a little."

"Your Majesty?" Gerda was unsure how to answer.

"I'm worried about Anna," Elsa fidgeted with the cross hanging from a silver chain around her neck. "I'm worried about what they're doing to her. I'm just… I'm worried."

"That is perfectly reasonable, Queen Elsa. Anyone would be worried, had they a family member in the hands of their enemies."

Later, as Elsa was getting dressed, there was another knock at her door. It was Kai, and he held an envelope bearing the crest of Weaseltown on its seal. He looked uncertainly between the Queen, gown settling on her shoulders, and Gerda, fussing about the Queen's hair. He gave Elsa a pointed a look, and she returned it with just as much intensity.

"Gerda, I will fix my hair later. Kai, prepare my study."

It took only as long as the trip to her study for Queen Elsa to start damping her emotions once again. The letter she held would almost surely hold the demands Weaseltown had for the safe return of Princess Anna. Kai very carefully closed the door once she was at her desk—a new desk, simple and robust, made of ice and snow. It lacked the presence her father's desk had had, but it suited her personality better. Conjuring a letter opener from the air, Elsa sliced open the red wax seal and inspected the letter within.

From the first words her anger had been stoked and her ire raised. Her heart had blackened with despair as she read of the tortures befalling her sister. The contents of the letter had been quite graphic—and she realized, had not even listed a single demand yet. Something was very wrong. Ice was creeping up the walls, and a chill wind blew the still damaged windows open, depositing small drifts of snow on the ruined threads of carpet. More horrific tortures were listed further in the letter, threats that such acts would be carried out if she—or Arendelle—attempted any belligerent actions. Elsa slammed her fist against the desk, icicles rippling away from her hand in savage wave of destruction.

What made her angrier than anything else was the simple fact that she was to blame, for all of this. She had insisted Anna take a day to enjoy herself; to be with Kristoff, who deserved her far more than Elsa herself did. And with that act of kindness Elsa had a sinking feeling she had single-handedly destroyed her own sister. No. She took a deep breath, trying to take a mental step back from reading the letter. Anna is strong. She'll fight. She'll fight for you, for Kristoff, for everyone she loves. She wouldn't want you to give up on her, so don't. Trust that she's as strong as you think she is. Trust that she's the sister you know and love. The sister you're going to save.

But how? Elsa asked herself, casting the letter aside, unfinished. I don't even know where she is. You should have a little faith; Bishop Gudbrand's voice echoed in her mind. Of course, she'd set the council a task to complete, and they wouldn't fail her—those that were able to help, in any case. It stung that the man who could help most was also the one she liked least. Marshal Gerhardt. But times were desperate, and she needed results, not reassurances. Anna would be found, or the council would find out just how powerful she really was. And if anything—untoward—had happened to Anna… Weaseltown would remain only as a name mentioned in dark whispers, a cautionary tale about the powers of the Snow Queen.

Elsa took the letter in her hands once more, finishing the last few lines. She frowned. The ransom demands in the last line were too simple, too easy. Especially for the return of a Royal Princess. Elsa forced herself to re-read the letter, snow blowing in the window behind her. By the time she'd finished all her rage had become an icy ball of barely contained fury. The letter had been written specifically to make her mad—to force her powers to the fore. Someone was trying to provoke her, possibly even provoke the citizens of Arendelle against her, trying to use her unrestrained powers as the excuse they needed for an uprising.

The words from her dream—the song—from the night before last filled her mind, unbidden.

Kingdom's falling… down

Someone wanted her to fall, to be brought down and cast aside. The Duke most likely, but she wouldn't discount another power; the Duke's forces could simply have been a convenient vehicle for the fear and loathing of another kingdom. Given how she had been treated, Elsa felt confident in assigning blame for this primarily to the Duke himself. He had, after all, given his guards instructions to kill her in the ice palace. It fell just short of assassination by proxy. But the question was what he hoped to gain with these actions, and what Arendelle might lose in return.

Your hand commands this thunder

Elsa looked at her hands. Nearly three weeks gone by, and she'd never even considered the gloves again. The snowstorm outside gave her pause—it wasn't heavy, but neither was it natural. It also seemed to extend well past the edge of the town. It was hers, and she had created it without thought. She had been provoked—her people would understand; she hoped they would understand. Because for some reason, this was a storm she could not simply banish with a thought or a wave of her hands. It ran deeper than usual, fueled by her concern for her sister and her fear for her kingdom. Something wicked was approaching, and she didn't know what to do.

In silence

For so long she'd been quiet. For too long. For Anna; to spare her feelings, to protect her from harm. But it had not been enough. It had never been enough, because Anna was too persistent, too good, too full of love for her sister to let Elsa remain silent forever. Even if it was Elsa that had taken the first tentative step at the coronation ball—before everything fell apart—she knew that if it weren't for the good memories Anna had left her, she never would have had the courage to take that first step. She was tired of the silence; she had been living in it too long. Now Anna had been stolen from her, and the silence was unbearable—it was time to be heard.

Cry as we're torn asunder

Elsa gently wrung her hands at the memory of those words. She certainly had cried upon learning that Anna had been kidnapped, the bond between them sundered by fate and circumstance. Even as the words echoed in her mind, Elsa saw that it was not a thing she had done, but a choice she had made. Perhaps not the best choice either, she realized, because she could either cry about what had been done, or she could do something about it. She had reacted—now the challenge was to act.

Alone

In order to act, she had to make a choice. A positive choice. An active choice. Elsa knew it was a choice she had to make, a choice between herself, her kingdom, or her sister. She had to choose one of them—and there could only ever be one; one that came before all others. One whose needs she would take care of before any other. It wasn't Arendelle. And it definitely wasn't her. Because the most important person in the world was Anna. She would sooner die than see her sister in pain—despite the pain she knew that would cause her sister. Arendelle could burn to the ground, but as long as Anna remained, Elsa knew there would a chance to rebuild, a chance to be happy.

Unto what God do you call?

Taking hold of the cross at her neck, Elsa uttered a prayer to the Divine, asking for forgiveness; for placing the needs of the one above the many. She didn't know if the Divine would answer her prayer, but she would at least seek out Bishop Gudbrand before taking any further actions. She needed advice—and assurances she was doing the right thing. She was sure she was wrong, but it just didn't matter—Anna did. And for Anna, she would pay any price; even at the cost of her kingdom; even at the cost of her life.

Protect me in my…

"Fall," Elsa whispered, completing the verse. If she went through with this plan, this idea to rescue Anna herself somehow, she knew she would have fallen almost as far as it was possible to fall as queen. But as a sister, as a friend—as potentially something more than both—she knew it was the right thing to do. Anna wouldn't hesitate if it was her that had been kidnapped instead. Her mind was set.

The snowstorm had abated, and Elsa released a deep breath. Clouds still drifted overhead, and snow fell in small flurries, but now the sun was breaking through, forcing aside the darkness. Elsa smiled, it was a perfect reflection of how she felt inside. Her determination to save Anna blazed in her soul, while her fears about her treatment clouded her heart. No matter what happened, if she got Anna back—no, _when_ she got Anna back—Elsa was going to show her sister the kindness she herself had been shown. She was going to prove that she was just as full of love as Anna was—she had just needed time to realize it.

She sighed, because she was also full of much darker emotions. Hate and fear, anger and betrayal, agony and despair. But no longer would she let them rule—ruin—her life. Anna had shown her something deep inside herself, something that made life worth living, made every day special, and worth striving towards. Love. Pure, unconditional love. It was what she'd needed all those years and she'd been completely blind to it. Just because she had thought she didn't deserve it did not mean she hadn't needed it. All it had taken to realize that was to freeze Anna's heart.

A gentle knock at the door of her study lifted Elsa from her reverie. It was probably Kai, wanting to check she was alright. The storm she'd conjured had looked pretty bad at first—maybe he was worried about a repeat of the coronation ball. She didn't really blame him either, because when her powers went out of control, they really went out of control. Elsa wheeled herself to the door, opening it slowly. She could barely conceal her surprise at seeing Kristoff there. Or Olaf.

"Olaf, who used you for target practice?"

"The men at the other castle didn't like me."

"What other castle?"

Kristoff elaborated. "It was a fort, actually. One of the border forts, northwest of the forest. They're keeping Anna there."

"How do you know?"

"Olaf told me."

"What makes you so sure?" Elsa watched as Kristoff's face fell, before his normally even features tightened in fear and distrust. "You saw—no, you heard something?"

"Screaming. Anna, screaming. They were hurting her Elsa, and they shot at us—I–I couldn't help," Kristoff sighed heavily, noting the ice building up around the Queen's chair. "Again."

"Then what good are you?" Elsa snapped. The hurt she saw in Kristoff's eyes was enough to bring her up short. That remark had been uncalled for, but ice harvester turned, and left, leaving Elsa fuming with herself, ice cracking against the walls and slowly growing tiny jagged spikes. Just one more thing to apologize for. She sighed, slowly thawing the ice she'd left around her chair. She could almost feel Kai's disapproving gaze. It wasn't like she'd _meant_ to snap at Kristoff like that. Just… all her frustration at being unable to help Anna herself—he had to feel just as bad; and she basically accused him of being a coward when she'd been unable to help Anna herself for far less noble reasons. Now she'd just driven her best source of help away from her.

Without Anna to help balance her out, she was becoming… someone she didn't want to be. Not anymore. The isolation had worked in the past, holding on to her darkness because it was the one thing that was hers and would not hurt anyone else. But now she had learned to accept the darkness, realized that it was not all she was; that it was simply one part of a greater whole. She knew a light shone deep within her, a light every bit as bright as the one she saw within her sister. It was time to let the world see that light.

* * *

Marshal Markus Gerhardt was worried; deeply concerned, in fact. It wasn't the fact the Queen had given the council—and more pressingly, him—an ultimatum. It was the fact Weselton's fleet had been seen on the horizon, many miles out to sea. The _Skjøld_ had confirmed the sighting and the colours flown by the armada. Seven ships of the line; three Second-rate, three Third-rate, and a single Fourth-rate. Those ships were also attended by three Cutters, and a single Fifth-rate Frigate. It represented a royal headache—made even worse by the actual royal headache he would now have to deal with. Wonderful.

Gerhardt placed several small, cast metal ships on the map in front of him. Weselton had ten ships. Their intent was clear—this was an invasion fleet, meant to blockade and occupy the harbour of Arendelle. The navy would put up a good fight, especially the First-rate _Pride of Arendelle_ , but only two other Third-rate ships of the line were currently in the harbour. There were also three Sixth-rates, Frigates barely worthy of the title. Marshal Gerhardt knew his crews had the edge in training and discipline over the sailors of Weselton, and the royal marine fusiliers were the envy of many, but the fact remained that his forces were horribly outmatched. They had home soil—or waters, in this case—on which they would fight that much more savagely, but in the end they would still lose.

The Queen's pacifism made things worse—more so, because Gerhardt was quite certain she would veto any aggressive actions he wanted to take, for fear of the Royal Princess suffering the repercussions. It was the classic dilemma of being caught between a rock and a hard place. Gerhardt wanted to act on his own, without royal decree or interference, but he knew that risked heavy consequences from both sides; Weselton, as a reprisal; and Queen Elsa, for placing her sister in greater jeopardy. Gerhardt slammed a fist against his desk, rattling the small ships sitting on the map. The Queen had already chosen what was worth protecting more, and the Marshal cursed her for it. Her kingdom should come before her sister—the many before the few.

And if he suggested using her magic to halt the invading fleet, well, Gerhardt was quite sure he'd get a stern refusal from the Queen. His best men were currently out in the field, searching for the Royal Princess, and yet here the Queen would refuse to help, where the danger was more immediate and the repercussions more severe. Gerhardt frowned; there had to be _something_ he could do to convince the Queen of the necessity of using her magic. Some way to force it from her—like the snow that had fallen not long ago. That meant Queen Elsa had been upset by something, upset enough that she couldn't mask her powers. Gerhardt allowed himself a small smile—but he questioned inwardly whether such a plan was worthwhile. It would work, once, and he might see the Queen's wrath as never before, but there was the risk it would be directed at him, not them. There was the even greater risk that even if it did work, the Queen would see through his ruse, and no amount of protest would keep him in office after that. After a moment's consideration he concluded that it simply was not worth risk. Not this time.

* * *

"Justicar, open up!" Kristoffersen banged on the door to the small house on the outskirts of town. Ansa had located the homes of those who had access to the shed that had contained the wig and the stake. There were five in all, and the first two had been empty. The sudden banging noises from the upper floor of this house indicated that it, at least, was occupied. There was a loud crash from the rear of the house, and a loud string of curses. Torsten and a town guard appeared at the side of the house, dragging a scruffy looking man between them.

"Why did you run?" Justicar Kristoffersen asked the man when Torsten and the guard had dragged him close enough to hear.

"I ain't telling you jack."

"That's too bad… I hear regicide is rather frowned upon."

"Especially when you try and pervert the words of the good book in order to justify it," Bishop Gudbrand spoke from beside the Justicar.

"Then you're reading it all wrong. 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'."

"'Thou shalt not bear false witness'; and if what the Justicar has told me is true, another commandment holds above even that: 'Thou shalt not kill'."

"You saw with your own two eyes what the witch-queen did at her coronation—how is that bearing false witness?" the man pressed his line of thinking. "How is that _not_ witchcraft?"

"Because the Queen herself is not a witch. She is no hag or crone. She bears no marks. She made no pacts. She was _born_ with her magic. She did not invite it in, and neither was she cursed. I have seen her magic, at its most powerful and its most sublime—it is no more a threat or aberration as the season of winter itself," Gudbrand paused, watching the man's unconvinced face change to a disbelieving scowl. "But perhaps someone more eloquent has tried to convince you of the falseness of my claims—it would not surprise me, Master Sigvard, to learn that your mind has been clouded with poisonous ideas.

"Oh, yes, I knew who you were the moment I laid eyes on you. As the good shepherd, I know _all_ my flock. I know some have minds too small for doubt, and some whose minds are nothing but doubt; but they all have faith. I know some with true zeal, some with passion, and others with mere drive. I also know who amongst them masks their true nature with impassioned zeal and scathing words. It is those who are afraid. Afraid of whatever you care to imagine. Some, perhaps, are simply driven too far; and others certainly have good reason for their feelings."

"But you missed the spawn of the Infernal in your midst. The witch-queen is a bigger threat—you should destroy her!"

"Dear Master Sigvard, your mind is clouded with hate, filled with vitriol put there by someone with designs against the Queen; you should know better," Sigvard made to say something else, but Gudbrand cut him off. "Or perhaps you were paid not to."

Sigvard's face cracked, just for a moment. Kristoffersen smiled and rubbed his hands together against the chill in the afternoon air. "Well done. Remind me to hire you if I need an impassioned defense against my detractors. Master Sigvard, perhaps you'd be so kind as to inform us whose coin you are taking—before we have to force a confession from you."

"All this talk won't help the witch-queen," Sigvard smiled darkly. "We were paid. You were right. We were paid to get the job done—and while you're here, interrogating me…"

"Torsten, take him to the castle dungeons. The Queen can decide what to do with him later. Clarence—"

"You were waiting for an invitation?" the Bishop questioned, already halfway down the street. Even as they made for the next house on the list, the guards jogging to keep up behind them, Sigvard's laughter echoed in their ears. They just had to hope if they were too late that the Queen's new bodyguard was up to the task. With the Royal Princess missing, _nothing_ could be allowed to happen to the Queen.

* * *

It was mid-morning before her captors deigned to open the doors to the courtyard. Anna blinked, drowsy, unsure of the actual time. She'd woken at dawn—again—which was a clear sign exactly how much these men hated her. She was not a morning person, on the other hand, her hair actually seemed fine. It made sense, considering her head hadn't touched a pillow since the previous night. She was still tied to the flagpole and she started as rough hands unbound the ropes and grabbed at every inch of her exposed flesh. They paid special attention to her belly and her breasts, although one hand strayed to her throat in a silent threat. Anna remained silent—and if that meant they thought they'd broke her, so much the better. She needed time to come up with a fresh escape plan. She would need to disable her captors—she might even be forced to kill them.

After the way they'd treated her the previous night, she'd revised her stance on killing. At least, when it came to these men. It was a terrible, horrible, evil thing to do—and it always would be. But if the only alternative was to remain here, at their mercy, she might just have the stomach to do it. Elsa… she hoped Elsa would understand if she was forced to do it. She hoped Elsa would understand that she'd been forced to kill a man in the first place. Would Elsa hate her for it? Would she grow distant? Think she was the monster instead? These thoughts still rattled around in Anna's mind as she was thrown back in her cell, followed by a shirt, and the same tasteless goo they had the affront to call 'breakfast'. They really did hate her.

No new plans had been forthcoming for the past hour, but she had at least had a little privacy to take care of her body and its various needs. They'd left her a bucket for that—one with a distinctive crease in the side of it. And now, she giggled, it was full of the most disgusting 'ammunition' she could think of. Certainly good for shock value, maybe even enough to make the stone floor slick enough to topple incoming attackers. It was something she'd never considered before, but now—well, she had only herself, and whatever she could fashion into a weapon. She wished she'd had the presence of mind to hide one of the daggers she'd stolen the first time. It would make things so much easier.

The sun had climbed high into the sky, and Anna knew they wouldn't be giving her lunch. There wasn't even a single guard in the dungeon anymore. They didn't care what she said, what she did. All that mattered was that she was left alone—and she still didn't know _why_. Hours spent neglecting her, ignoring her needs, depriving her of all but the most basic sustenance. There had to be a purpose to it, to everything. No one was that needlessly cruel. Except Hans, but he was from the Southern Isles, while these men were from—well, where were they from? They certainly didn't share Hans's accent, so it probably wasn't the Southern Isles.

"Okay, Anna, you can do this—you've seen them, you know what they look like, so…" and she cursed, because she really hadn't been paying attention in her mad dash to escape. "Think, you had to see _something_ ; so, what did you see? Colour. Okay, it's a start. Red. They had red shirts. Alright, we're getting somewhere. What else? They carry daggers. Who carries daggers? Not just bandits. All the daggers were the same. They had swords too. Crossbows. Who uses crossbows—that isn't a bandit? Okay, good, we're getting close here. Red shirts—all of them the same, like a… like a uniform! Yes!

"Right, who do we know wears a uniform? And carries a dagger? And can use a crossbow? Soldiers. Yes! Good work Anna, you got it. Wait… soldiers? Why would soldiers kidnap me? I mean I know the why, why, to control Elsa, but that would be easy. Way too easy, so think, what would soldiers want with me? Umm, well, their hands were all over me so—blergh—there's _that_ , and they're hurting me, to hurt Elsa, I guess—because they haven't asked me any questions and did the guards ever ask Flynn Rider questions… all the time, of course they did, so not asking me questions means I don't know what they want to know, so someone else knows it. And they want to control Elsa, which means controlling her powers, which means she can't—wait, did she say something about hurting people with her powers? No—it was about being used as a weapon, and people wanting to take her out of the picture for good which means—oh, gods… no. Arendelle. So many people… because–because… of me?"

Anna let out a shaky breath, slowly sitting on what she generously referred to as her bed. "I–I'm worth that much to them? I'd be worth a–a war? Because… because Elsa _loves_ me. She cares so much she'd start a war to get me back… because she knows I'd do the same thing for her and I'm such an _idiot!_ Elsa, you're meant to rescue me, not to try and destroy the people who took me—although I wouldn't mind if you could just get rid of these ones right here."

The red haired princess took a deep breath, calming herself. Elsa wouldn't go to war. It wasn't her style. She would plan and contemplate, and she would do so in exacting detail. Creating the perfect rescue plan would take days, at best. Anna steeled herself at that thought. It didn't matter what that bastard Mikkel said. Elsa would survive, and she would rescue her. Because that's what sisters were for. Getting each other into trouble—and more importantly, getting each other out of it again. But there was another person she could call on, someone whom she'd grown close to of late. Someone who she hoped had survived the ambush. A blonde, big nosed, scruffy haired and slightly smelly ice harvester. He went by the name of Kristoff, and he was constantly trying to show her she was stronger than she thought. And she was—she'd prove it too, just let one of those soldiers try coming in her door again.

Except the banging she'd just heard was five of them. They had her pressed against the floor before she could respond, the cold, uneven stones pressing uncomfortably into her back—reminding her of the new scars she bore. A booted foot was placed against her chest, painfully pressing against the top of her breasts and forcing her hard against the floor. Her left arm was yanked upright, the force of the gesture making her wince and gasp in pain. She tried to pull her arm away but another hand held it firm. Mikkel smiled down on her, his expression becoming a wicked grin as he drew his dagger. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, and he took the time to kick her in the ribs just to see the look of pain cross her face.

"Your witch-queen sister isn't listening. It's a pity really, given she'll be dead by the end of tomorrow. But with a fast enough horse this should reach her in time," Mikkel smiled again, the point of his dagger piercing the flesh on the back of Anna's wrist. "You see, we'll give her something to remember you by—because you are her right hand, after all." Mikkel dragged the blade slowly around her wrist, and Anna felt the cold steel cutting into the muscle around the outside of her arm. She felt the blood running in a stream down her arm. She felt a rough catch as the blade just touched the bone on the outside of her wrist. Only then did she fully comprehend what was happening. Only then did she realize that Mikkel was going to remove her hand, then leave her in this cell—probably to bleed to death. If she lost that hand… how could she… her mind was already shutting down, refusing to acknowledge what was happening.

"And if the witch-queen somehow miraculously survives, well, I guess we start sending you back. Piece by piece."

Anna screamed, and suddenly the dagger was no longer digging into her flesh, no longer trying to remove her hand. She dared to open her eyes. Her hand was still attached, she could still move her fingers. She turned her hand around, gaping in wonder at its wholeness. Thick rivulets of blood flowed down her forearm, growing sticky as they ran down her arm. One of the other men leant down to tear a strip off her shirt, wrapping it around her wrist several times before cinching it tight.

"Don't want you dying quite yet, feisty little bitch. We gotta make a statement. At sunset."

"Pelle, enough."

"What's at sunset?"

"Oh… you'll never get there," and the one called Pelle smiled, taking his boot from her chest.

It was several hours later that Anna was dragged from her cell. The sun was in the west, casting lengthy shadows all around the castle. Three soldiers marched her up the stairs. They were silent and solemn. Something was wrong—something very bad was about to happen. All the men wore dour looks, some even seemed regretful. Even Mikkel—and that was enough to give her pause. The red cloaked soldier spoke solemnly.

"Your sister refused our demands. Looks like she didn't care enough about you. Too bad. Here, hold this," Anna instinctively grasped the object that had been placed in her hands. A crossbow bolt. "I'd say I'm sorry, Princess, but really, this is all your sister's fault. You should really blame her."

"No. You're the ones doing this to me—you get the blame. I'd sooner ride Naglfar through Helheim's gate than blame Elsa."

"If only you could see the error of your pagan ways. The Divine is the one and only deserving of worship. Perhaps He will grant you grace on your passage—or maybe you'll get your wish to see Helheim's gate personally."

Anna shivered, dropping the crossbow bolt from trembling fingers. These men meant to kill her. They wanted to kill her in order to hurt Elsa. No way in hell was she letting that happen. One swift kick to groin got one of the guards facing her. A diving roll on the stump of her right arm sent fire blazing up her back. A powerful uppercut knocked another man into the wall. She managed to grab a single dagger from someone's belt before a hand grabbed at her back. Said hand was met with a vicious slash, drawn back with a pained curse. Another guard tried to bind her from the front, but his dodge was too slow to avoid another kick to the groin.

The second guard came back, the one with the wounded hand, having taken the time to draw his sword. Anna danced perilously close, darting inside the reach of his blade—classic Flynn Rider. Then fire blossomed around her wrist as she drove the dagger into the man's stomach, cracking her forehead against his nose at the same time. His nose was _hard_ , and Anna briefly saw stars before she saw Mikkel aiming a crossbow at her. She ran, feet slipping on the stone floor, the crossbow bolt glancing off the wall behind her. She rolled sideways, into the legs of another of her captors, sending him sprawling as she used the wall to steady herself. Mikkel was reloading the crossbow, and another soldier was already taking aim. She only had one chance; Mikkel had nearly strung another arrow.

Anna screamed with rage and pent up agony, her back and wrist still on fire. She drove the dagger so deep into Mikkel's chest that she felt bone crack. She felt something vital give as the leader of the soldiers fell backwards, and suddenly she was holding only the hilt of a dagger. She managed to throw it at the soldier taking aim at her, giving her time to snatch up Mikkel's freshly loaded crossbow. It was heavy, it was awkward, and given how cut up her wrist was, Anna was sure her hand was in danger of literally falling off. She couldn't even aim the damn thing, it was that heavy. So she just sort of pointed it in the direction of the people she didn't like, and pulled the trigger. The twanging of bowstrings was the last thing she heard.

She saw her bolt pierce the other crossbowman's shoulder, just around the outside, the feathers sticking out of the wound. Everything went fuzzy as she felt the pain piercing through her chest, her front and back on fire, and similar feathers sticking out just below her shoulder. All she could think of as the veil fell was how disappointed she'd been last night at not seeing snow. It didn't make any sense. But by then she was really beyond caring. The whole world tilted sideways and gently faded to black.


	36. Fire & Fury

Marshal Gerhardt scanned the letter the Queen of Arendelle had handed him. His face betrayed no emotion as he read of the tortures mentioned therein. He was not reading the letter to understand the words on the page, but to understand the intent behind placing them there. The descriptions provided had been graphic, chillingly so. Gerhardt might have been disturbed if he didn't know it was all a sham. It explained the snowstorm earlier in the day too. Something about the writing was off, familiar, but… he wasn't sure, but he recalled having seen similar writing many times in the past—but where?

"It is a lie, your majesty," Gerhardt, explained his conclusions to the Queen, placing the offending document against his slightly frosted desk. "The descriptions of the tortures they would submit your sister to are too graphic—they aren't telling you what has been done, or even what will be done; they are telling you only what _can_ be done. Even the threat against the Princess's life is empty; and there is twofold reason why. First, if they do, in fact, kill her, they will lose their only bargaining chip. There would be nothing stopping us from obliterating them where they stood—if we knew where they stood that is. Second, the threat of death or torture is only effective while a hostage is alive. Lose that, and they have no power over you."

"But Anna would still be dead," the ice creeping up the walls of Gerhardt's office betrayed the Queen's emotional state. "And you would use that to turn me into a _weapon_."

"I would," Gerhardt replied honestly, attempting to provoke the Queen. He had cautioned himself against this plan previously, but what if he could provide a target for the Queen's anger? "Because, Queen Elsa, they would deserve no less punishment than that for the death of your sister. And as Queen, you maintain first right of redress and first right of vengeance against any such actions."

Ice erupted from the walls and snaked across the ceiling. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees and Marshal Gerhardt smiled coldly. It was a very dangerous game to play—he needed the Queen angry enough to use her powers, but not so angry he could no longer direct them. Time to try and reign things in—and inform the Queen of the real problem now facing Arendelle. The problem he knew could best be countered by the use of her powers.

"Ships have been spotted on the horizon."

"Whose ships?"

"Weselton, Queen Elsa. Ten vessels; they intend to occupy the town, subjugate your citizens. I once explained how your powers might be used to stop such an attack. To stop such an attack without having to harm anyone. Do you recall what I said?"

"I–I do; but I won't. Not if it risks hurting Anna. If anything happens to her… it will be my fault."

"My search parties still have no word, but we're expanding the area to include all the border territories now, such that we can cover in a single day at any rate," Gerhardt saw something flash behind the Queen's eyes. Some glimmer of hidden knowledge or secrets untold. Perhaps here she knew something he did not. He would definitely have to find out. "Hmm, perhaps you know more of this than I?"

"If I told you, would you help?"

"I am bound to help you, Queen Elsa, whether I wish to or not. I can advise and offer a differing opinion, but I cannot flatly refuse an order from the Queen. I counter with this: if using your magic aggressively was the only way to save Princess Anna, would you? Are you prepared to take a life?"

Flurries of snow began to drift around Gerhardt's office. The ice continued to creep across the large planning desk, freezing the small metal ships in place. The Marshal watched the emotions running across the face of his Queen. Doubt, fear, anger, regret, fury, sadness, resolve. Frost glowed around Queen Elsa's hands before she offered a reply.

"I might—if there was no other way. I would much rather not, of course, but if there was no other way, I might be forced to use my magic aggressively. As to your second question, Marshal Gerhardt; No. I am not prepared to take a life. I hope I never am. I killed someone once, and I was beyond lucky to get her back. I will never do that again—not to anyone. I may _want_ to kill these people hurting my sister, but I know _I_ cannot. I don't care if that means you think I'm weak—because I don't think valuing life is a weakness."

Gerhardt frowned, pressing his hands together before answering. "Unfortunately, you're right. If you aren't prepared to fight, then you're weak. Your father, the King, was always prepared to fight—if he had to. He served well in the foot Guards, before he claimed the throne on his mother's death. He was not afraid of conflict—understand that while he did not encourage it, neither did he back away from it. You, on the other hand, Queen Elsa, appear to have shied from every possible conflict in the last decade"—ice cracked and splintered around the Marshal's office—"I don't think you have the guts to stand up for _your people_."

The ice around the room began to take on a baleful red glow. Elsa sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, spreading her hands in her lap. The glow faded, but the ice didn't thaw. "You're trying to make me angry," Elsa's voice cut like a knife. "How da—"

"I succeeded, then," Gerhardt smiled coldly. "And yes, I dare. Look at what your powers have wrought"—the Marshal gestured with both arms, taking in the entirety of his office—"and we both remain unharmed. You have sufficient control—you could so easily turn this against our foes. Why will you not fight?!"

"Because of _Anna!_ " Spikes of ice exploded from the walls, crumbling into drifts of snow before they could reach too far.

"If you don't fight, she's already _dead!_ " The red glow returned, and the walls began to close in, jagged barbs and serrated edges surrounding both Elsa and Gerhardt.

"How… how coul…"

"You love your sister, do you not?"

"I–I do. Of course I do. I love her more than anything in the world. I would let Arendelle burn to _ashes_ if it meant I could have Anna just one day more!"

"You won't fight for your people—but you love your sister so. Fight for her, Queen Elsa. Fight for your sister; or we are already lost!"

Elsa's scream of rage was like dark music to Gerhardt's ears. The discordant crash of breaking ice was less so, and he threw up his arm to cover his face from the storm of icy shards that ricocheted through the room. They cut like knives and glittered like diamonds. He had no doubts that if the Queen was not in control of herself those shards could well have shredded everything in the room, himself included. It wouldn't be wise to push the Queen any further.

Silence reigned as Marshal Gerhardt dabbed at a cut on his cheek holding a handkerchief in one gloved hand. The handkerchief was embroidered with the crest of Arendelle, and the Marshal's mark of office. His face betrayed nothing, but a glimmer of fear settled behind his eyes. And if such a small outburst could scare him, what could this aspect of Elsa do to their common enemies? The Marshal smiled darkly, aware that Queen Elsa's wrath might still be directed at him. Then she asked a question, one he had to answer with honesty. Especially if he hoped to retain any sort of working relationship with the Queen. She did, after all, value honesty almost as much as he did.

"Why; why do you want me to lose control?"

"To destroy our enemies. But I would hardly call that losing control. It was unfocussed aggression, nothing more. You had no real target, no true desire to harm anyone. I want to see you use that anger, that power. I want to see you fight for what you desire. If not for your people, then fight for Anna. If you freeze the fjord, if you manage to stop their ships, then there is no way they can get a message to the Princess's abductors in time. Not without us seeing such a messenger attempting to cross the ice—and intercepting them. Your sister—Princess Anna—will be safe if we act swiftly. Her abductors will be unable to carry out any of those threats."

"And what if their messenger is already within the township; what then?" Queen Elsa asked a pointed question. "How did they know when and where to strike; how did they know to bring enough men to overpower even captain Ragnar?"

"That is the right kind of question to ask, Queen Elsa. For a pacifist you have a remarkably keen military mind. As to the question you raise, if it is indeed true. We have far greater problems… in fact…" Gerhardt took up the letter, the ransom note that had started this meeting. The writing, it _was_ familiar. Simple, not elegant, but well refined and to the point. The cursive script he'd seen before, many, many times. So many times, so many notes and missives. Gerhardt swore. He knew, absolutely _knew_ , that handwriting. He'd seen it, so often, on so many days, he could not fail to recognize it. Not when he looked at the _writing_ instead of the words.

"Traitor!" Gerhardt roared at the letter, slamming his fist against the desk hard enough shatter the ice around it. Elsa looked up at him, startled by the outburst. "My sincerest apologies, Queen Elsa. You were right; this is—has been—a domestic matter. Weselton's fleet has been sent to complicate things, such that I might overlook the traitor in our midst. Now, while I might hate that you are a _pacifist_ , my wrath is reserved for traitors. Now go, someone deserves my wrath, and it is not you."

"Marshal Gerhardt," Elsa's voice was ice. "I came to _you_ for aid. You will _not_ dismiss me like some common soldier."

"And yet you would still refuse to impede the fleet Weselton has sent against us."

"Let them come. Let them in to the harbour."

"And then what; surrender?"

"No. Arendelle will not surrender. We will not be cowed by force. If those ships enter the harbour, they will do so in _pieces_. You mentioned our coastal fort during the first council meeting, where do its best guns lie?"

"Queen Elsa?" Gerhardt was stunned by the fire he heard in the Queen's voice. This kind of anger was entirely unlike her. Thankfully it was no longer directed at him, but it was still unsettling. She was cold, collected, and very, very dangerous. The Marshal was more than impressed by the change—but what had spurred it on?

"The _Pride of Arendelle_ , she still lies at anchor?"

"Yes, your majesty. She lies at anchor in the harbour, her crew on shore leave."

"Recall them. All of them. The _Pride_ anchors opposite the fort, inside the harbour wall. All sails will be furled, and her colours struck. Have our sailors triple shot the cannons behind the gunports."

Gerhardt paused. This was starting to sound dangerously like a solid military plan. And how did the Queen know about the dangerous practice of double-shotting, let alone triple-shotting? Of course it would cut range, but within the harbour that would be moot. It would fall to boarding actions to carry the day—and the Marshal knew his troops were good enough to do that. The Royal Marines would see action, and they would do Arendelle proud, just as they had in the Northlands campaign, during the reign of Elsa's father. Now there was only one question left to ask, a question Gerhardt was afraid to ask, because it would prove that the Queen might be unfit to rule as it revealed her true priorities.

"Why?"

"Because these bastards stole Anna away from me," Elsa's voice hardened. "And for every scar that has left upon my soul, for every imagined and real torture they might have inflicted on my sister, I will see them bear those same scars for eternity. I do not care if they die. I only care that they _hurt_ before they leave this world. And you—no apology will take back what you tried to do, what you have pressured me into. But you _will_ let me handle this my own way. And you will give me a full platoon of the Third Royal Marine Fusiliers."

Marshal Gerhardt gaped at the Queen, open-mouthed. It took several long seconds before he could compose himself. The same question. "Why?"

"Because I want my sister back; and you were right. Damn you, but you were right. I will _fight_ for her," Elsa's voice softened, and Gerhardt was just as taken aback by the change as before. "She never stopped fighting for me."

Gerhardt's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what the Queen of Arendelle was actually. "You know where she is."

"I do—would you dare stop me?"

And with the fire burning behind her eyes, the relentless drive he could almost feel radiating from her soul, Marshal Markus Gerhardt knew, without doubt, that the Queen of Arendelle did not, in fact, need her magic in order to be utterly terrifying. Because he could already see, despite her being confined to a wheelchair and holding her powers in check, the Queen would utterly destroy anything in her path. Woe betide the men that had taken Anna. But there was one small detail of the plan Elsa had left out.

"Queen Elsa, if I may, how do you plan on goading Weselton's fleet to enter the harbour?"

"Ice. They'll have only a single path left to them. I'll do as you asked, just this once. My mission to rescue Anna depends on surprise, so I will attack at dawn, with the sun at my back. At my soldiers' backs. Anna will be safely returned to the castle by day's end, or an eternal winter will be the very least of your problems. Understand?"

Gerhardt could only nod. Elsa, taking on the aspect of war, was utterly terrifying, and it compared to nothing Gerhardt had seen. How could this young woman, this waif of a girl bound to a wheelchair inspire such fear in her own subjects. She hadn't even been using her magic, just a discussion of goals and strategy. As the Queen left, Gerhardt had a small, uncertain, smile. The King had taught her well, and in her isolation she had obviously studied hard. Maybe—just maybe—she had a become a pacifist because she was too well acquainted with the vicissitudes of war. Violence, pain, and death. She had had thirteen years to study—to study anything she chose. What if she had studied war—what then? She had studied the greatest conflicts, the worst losses, from Thermopylae and Salamis, to the siege of Jerusalem or the War of the Roses; the battle of Agincourt, and of course there remained the exploits of both Nelson and Napoleon, at sea; and on land there was the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo.

Queen Elsa might reasonably have been said to be disgusted in war, with good reason, Gerhardt thought, but she was still a pacifist, and he had his doubts about how well she would fight—setting aside for a moment the remarkable keenness of her mind. She had agreed to help, and her plan was sound—with a little refinement it would be absolutely devastating. If, for example, it could be made to look as if the _Pride_ had run aground, but just enough to elevate its overloaded cannons to the correct angle… Well, it was certainly worth considering. There could be no hesitation, there were only a few hours left before the fleet of Weselton would make it into the harbour, and then everything he'd tested, everything he'd pushed for; it would happen, or it would not. This was the point of crisis, and he dearly hoped that Queen Elsa was strong enough to go through with the plan—her very own plan.

* * *

"Keep up, old man, we're hunting an assassin here," Justicar Kristoffersen panted as Bishop Gudbrand ran beside him. The guards running with them showed no such signs of exertion. "At this rate the Queen's going to die of old age before we get there."

"The Divine will lend me the strength I need to see this task done," the Bishop shot back. "I'm not sure who's going to help your heathen posterior."

"One day, with proof, Clarence. But do keep trying, I'm not dead yet."

"I swear, Hanne, your adventures will be the death of us both."

"Then whose job do I get to keep?" Torsten asked, jogging between the both of them.

"His," Bishop Gudbrand nodded towards the Justicar.

"Mine," Kristoffersen agreed, speaking at the same moment.

"Guess this one's broken then," Torsten tucked his cross back beneath the shirt he was wearing. "Ansa gave me all the homes of all these people. If you can handle the next one, Justicar Kristoffersen, I could take half these guards and confront the last person on this list before you get to yours."

"Done," the Bishop nodded in agreement as the Justicar spoke. "Now go."

Torsten sprinted into the distance, turning the corner, three of the guards following him. The remaining three guards kept pace with Kristoffersen and Gudbrand. They needed to turn left where Torsten had sprinted off to the right. Down to the end of that road. The house was a simple affair, as most in Arendelle were. Stone walled with a shingle roof. The front door was ajar, and several windows were broken.

"Damn it!" Kristoffersen cursed. "We're too late."

Only then did the two men notice the swirling clouds overhead. Only then did they see the snowfall. Only then did they know that Elsa was at the heart of everything. Given the way the clouds were swirling, there was only one place the Queen could be. The Justicar and the Bishop immediately turned and back-tracked. They had to reach the docks before the would be assassin. They could take no chances with the life of the Queen—not with the Royal Princess already in such jeopardy.

* * *

Elsa worked the magic through her hands—it was difficult, and a crowd was gathering, watching quietly as she sat before the docks, Hank behind her and Marhsal Gerhardt just to her right. She called upon her powers, seeing the pennants of the Weaseltown fleet on the horizon. The magic flowed through her, coming from she knew not where, coursing through her body and erupting from her hands. But it was not enough. Barely half the harbour had frozen; admittedly, it had frozen in the exact fashion she wanted it to, but the ice refused to spread further. She'd already done this once, before… why was it so hard now? What was so very different about this time? If she had the power to cover an entire kingdom—and then some, most likely—in an eternal winter, why was it she could not perform the simple act of freezing the harbour and leaving only a single channel open to the ships of Weaseltown?

"I–I can't," she turned to Marshal Gerhardt. "I can't do it."

"Weak. You promise to help, and you still turn your back on your people."

"No, no, you don't understand—I can't. I just… can't. My magic won't go any further. I can't make it do that."

"Then how, pray tell, did you manage to plunge Arendelle into an eternal winter?" Gerhardt's voice was firm. "And what about the snowstorm earlier today—what are you hiding?"

"I–I'm not hiding _anything!_ " Elsa screamed at Gerhardt. The ice began to splinter, branching out further into the harbour. Spears and daggers of fractal ice ran across the surface of the water. The air nearby fell several degrees.

"You're still hiding something, or the harbour would already be frozen. You're still _afraid_ of your powers, Elsa." Elsa heard the snide tone, the blatant disrespect, the ignorance of her rightful title. "And because you're weak, and scared, and pathetic, your sister is going to pay the price."

"No!" Storm clouds swirled overhead; snow began to fall. The ice in the harbour grew jagged; cruel shapes forming at the edge between the fjord waters and the ice. Crazed fractals of blue-white and purple shattered atop the waters, creating floating chunks of drift ice. The colours ran towards red, shadows flashing beneath the ice as it branched out further still, the drifting chunks of ice connecting with the frozen harbour in a jagged seam above the waters.

"And do you know what's even better?" Gerhardt asked coldly, so much so that Elsa was taken aback by the lack of emotion in his voice. "I get to see you used as a weapon. I get my greatest wish."

"How dare you!" Elsa slammed her fists against the armrests of her icy chair, spikes of ice erupting around her, narrowly missing both Hank and Gerhardt. "You… you… you're…"

"Winning," Gerhardt smiled, gesturing to the fjord in front of them; waving to the darkening sky; the ships slowing in the distance. "Weselton dares not to approach now. Look at what you've done… just look… no captain in their right mind would dare enter a harbour under such conditions."

Snow was falling in a steady stream, muffling distant sounds. Clouds whipped past overhead, driven by unnatural winds. The fjord was frozen, the surface rough and jagged, peaks and cliffs of ice out to the horizon. Elsa gasped, remembering something Søren had mentioned about her work having a 'savage beauty'—and here, here she could see just that. In her anger she had wrought destruction. She was thankful no one was hurt. The crowd appeared cold, shocked, but unharmed. And Gerhardt, after provoking her so, after getting his wish, she expected him to be smiling. But he wasn't, his face was drawn and haggard, his eyebrows knitted together in concern and fear. His hands were clasped—steepled—in front of him, and he appeared to mumbling something; a prayer, perhaps.

In the distance, as the snow continued to fall and ice crept away from the Queen over the surface of the docks, Elsa heard a shout. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"

Someone was pushing through the crowd, a crowd that had turned almost as one, stunned amazement on their faces. In fact, it was a small mob pushing through the crowd, and their leader had just drawn a weapon. So did the rest of the mob. Short swords, rapiers, daggers, and a few armed with simply heavy bars of iron. The leader was by far the most dangerous, raising his weapon—a flintlock pistol—towards the Queen.

"If you refuse to see this witch for the godless abomination she is, I'll just have to send her to face divine judgement myself."

Fire erupted from the barrel and pan of the pistol, and a cloud of smoke wreathed the hand of the man firing it. Everything happened too fast for Elsa to follow. She was on the hard, frozen cobbles of the dock. The spikes of ice she had accidentally summoned lay in shattered ruins beneath her. Her chair was cracked and splintered, useless. And on top of her, Hank was breathing heavily, one arm pinning her to the ground, placing his body between her and the assassin. His other hand clutched at his side, at the dark stain spreading beneath his uniform jacket. His sword was missing. Elsa tried looking past him, to see where it had fallen.

"Stay down," Hank coughed. "It's not safe."

Elsa could just see something past his shoulder. Gerhardt, striding purposefully towards the the leader of the mob. He was holding Hank's sword, and in a flash of silver the assassin lost his hand. The Marshal stepped aside, avoiding the blood spatter from the severed limb, then lashed out with a powerful kick to the man's stomach. The assassin doubled over, retching, clutching at the stump of his severed hand. The pistol in his missing hand still smoked, the heat slowly melting the ice beneath it.

There was a clash of steel on steel, and Elsa thought she caught flashes of Arendelle Green behind the mob. Guards, the town guards were here. They could stop the mob. Or, they could have, had the crowd not surged towards to the mob, overcoming their shock at the brazen attempt on the Queen's life. Elsa was fascinated, but Hank forced her head down, behind him, using his body as cover as he tried to drag them away from the fight. Hands tried to lift him away, and he fought them off.

"No. Leave her alone. I'll die before you get the Queen," and he lashed out at the closest man, the punch nearly breaking his nose.

"Calm down son," an older man said, gesturing for the people he was with to form a ring around them. "We only want to help."

"You want to… help?" Elsa asked, not understanding what was going on. She was sure it sounded stupid, but her mind just couldn't process things right now. Hank was hurt. Gerhardt was fighting. There was a severed hand lying somewhere on the docks. Anna was still in danger. A storm raged overhead—one she had summoned. It was all wrong, and these people still wanted to help?

"Aye, your majesty," the old man replied. "We saw what the Marshal was doing. He was provoking you; rather deliberately, I should think. But this"—the man gestured in the rough direction of the mob—"the barefaced cheek; such a brazen attempt on the life of another monarch… it takes a lot to stir your citizens to anger, your majesty, but if you manage it, you'd best beware."

Elsa heard a scream in the distance. She knew what it was, but it didn't even sound human. She could hear the guards shouting for order, putting themselves between the mob and the citizens of Arendelle. Something about not wanting a lynch mob, and facing righteous justice for their actions. Elsa shivered, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position as several of the men lifted Hank off her.

"Help him, Ha—Lieutenant Eriksson has been hurt, saving my life."

"We shall take him to a physician at once, but what of you, your majesty, what would you have us do?"

"Listen to the guards. The man that tried to kill me—those men with him—will face Arendelle's justice, in due course. But I will need them alive in order to discover who sent them."

"Go," the old man gestured to two of his companions. "Sort them out. They'll listen to you." He turned back to the Queen. "Your majesty, you cannot stay here. We can carry you to the castle if you are unable to make another of your chairs—or to any other safe place you desire to go."

"I—" Elsa started, considering where she needed to be. She had to help Anna. She had to know at least one of the Fusiliers she would be taking with her for the dawn raid. But Hank was here, now, and he was injured, perhaps gravely so. And Gerhardt—she understood, at least a little, as to why he had been provoking her. Not enough to forgive him, but enough that one day, if he made no further attempts, she might be able to work with him again. She decided. "Take me to Hank—the Lieutenant. I would see that he is safe before I return to the castle."

* * *

"Hank?" the voice was soft, appealing. He'd heard it before somewhere—it was becoming familiar. He felt a hand holding his. Cold, but… not at the same time. The fingers were slender and delicate, but held great power. He could remember that much. Hank. The voice had called his name. The young woman the voice belonged to held his hand, sat beside his bed. Except it wasn't his bed, but a—table?

Hank's eyes shot open, and he felt a strong hand restrain him as he tried to rise. He turned to see Queen Elsa sitting by his side, a worried look etched on her face. The mask cracked when she saw his eyes were open, and he could see the naked relief she felt. That too, was swiftly hidden—meant only for him—while she put on the face of the Queen again. She still gripped his hand as she spoke softly.

"You–you saved my life," Queen Elsa sounded as much surprised as she was relieved. "Two people I lo—I really care about—have nearly died for me."

"You're," Hank coughed, slowly levering himself up into a sitting position. "You're worth it. Not just because you're the Queen, either, Elsa. You're worth saving, and I'd do it a hundred times more to prove it to you."

"Why… how… what do I have that inspires such loyalty and sacrifice?"

"You have a good heart," Hank laid his free hand over Elsa's, and smiled. "Do you need something more?"

Elsa was surprised, clearly; because this was the first time he'd placed his hand on hers—or anywhere on her person—with more than just professional concern or support on his mind. He liked her—maybe he even loved her, but he wasn't sure—everything screamed at him that such a romance was forbidden on the grounds of propriety and common sense. The trouble always lay in the fact that the heart wanted what the heart wanted. And Hank's heart wanted Elsa; all of her, every day, for the rest of his life. He didn't even know _why_. All he knew was that no matter how much he would have to struggle, no matter how much she would have to fight, he was willing to be there for her. Always. And for love, he guessed, that might just be enough.

"Thank you, Hank, you saved my life but… I have to go. It's–It's Anna. You saved me, and now I have to save her."

Hank merely smiled, placing his hands against his heart. "I understand. If it was my sister I know I'd move heaven and earth to get her back. So go, save Princess Anna. Rescue your sister—and Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"I heard every word Gerhardt said. Feel free to use him for target practice."

"Hank!"

"Or… I hear Princess Anna has a mean left hook, perhaps she might be willing to deal with him?"

"Hank!" But Elsa was laughing, and the spell was broken. He knew why Gerhardt had said those things—he'd figured it out himself. Because every time Elsa got mad, or sad, or scared, her powers became less controllable, more widespread. Her magic was linked so strongly with her emotions that she simply could not help it. But each emotion created a different type of magic. Anger created jagged spikes; Fear created walls of ice; Sorrow caused snow to hang in the air. Hank smiled as the Queen opened the door, ready to save her sister.

"Thank you; for understanding," then she smiled, and left.


	37. The Monster Within

**Trigger Warnings for Violence**

* * *

Being dead hurt. Like, it really, really hurt. Her right arm ached, her back was on fire, she could barely feel her left hand, and something heavy was currently standing on her chest, trying to crush her. It seemed really, really, inappropriate, because dead people were supposed to live in eternal peace, or maybe in the halls of Valhalla—she wasn't quite sure. What she was sure of was the fact she was in neither of those places. Which would mean… except it wasn't hot. Not even warm. It was cold. So very cold.

When her eyes fluttered open, everything was wrong. She was standing on the fjord… but it was frozen solid. Ships were crashed and tilted at crazy angles, some cracking the ice beneath them. Winds howled and snow fell in a blizzard, but it couldn't compare with the chill deep within her heart. She looked at her hand—hands. She had two of them. Why did she have two? And why was she even asking that?

The cold. That was it. It was making her brain all weird. Silly questions. Ice filled her veins. Literally. So cold, but the pain burned like fire in her arms and legs. There was a name—she was calling a name. It was the wrong name. Chris-something. Christopher—no, Kristoff. But he was—she had seen him against the—it didn't make any sense. Where was she? This couldn't be the fjord. She couldn't find—Elsa!

Metal scraping against metal, a sword being drawn. She turned, a painful crick in her neck as the ice began to flow up her spine. She breathed heavily against the pain, forcing her dying body onwards. The storm was gone, but that only meant she could see the man holding the sword with greater clarity. He was going to kill Elsa. She wouldn't allow that. Never. Elsa was her sister, and she would die before she saw her hurt. Her legs burned with the ice, and she could feel her knees beginning to freeze. She wasn't going to make it. She screamed, virtually throwing herself between her sister and the sword.

The blade took her arm clean off, but there was no blood. It was all frozen, even the stump. She felt nothing. Nothing except the cold. Cold and pain. Her rib hurt—cracked where someone had kicked her. Her lip was split. Her left hand—wrist—was covered in blood. Her back was covered with at least a dozen slashes from—something. A crossbow bolt was sticking out of her chest. Just beneath her left shoulder, through the outside of her collar bone. She blinked. Everything hurt—she was dead, but she still hurt. What hell was she living in?

Her eyes opened again, and Anna saw the sun, just cresting the horizon, through the bars of her cell. Oh, so she wasn't dead. Which meant everything really did hurt. And it really was cold. Very, very cold. Frost was forming on the bars of the window. The only thing missing was the crossbow bolt through her chest; but it still hurt enough for her to know she hadn't been imagining that. A wind was starting to howl outside, and something was falling from the sky, darkening the sun. White, powdery; it was drifting through her window, blown in by the keening wind.

Snow. Snow was falling. In August. Anna gasped in wonder, straining to sit up. She felt something tightly bound around her chest, almost painfully compressing her breasts. She wasn't wearing her shirt anymore either. A large bandage wrapped around her chest, covering where the crossbow bolt had lain. She was surprised that her captors would do anything to help her, especially after she'd kicked two of them in the groin, stabbed Mikkel, and shot someone else. Something dark and terrible flashed through her mind. Had these men taken their revenge while she slept? But no, nothing hurt down there. It was almost like they'd just thrown her away. Again. But now, now Elsa was here, and she would be going home.

The problem was she couldn't do anything, locked in her cell. She would have to learn the virtues of patience, despite hearing explosions and the crack of gunfire outside. She could shout for Elsa, confirm where she was—but it might distract her sister at a vital moment. Better to stay silent. And anyway, if Elsa was here, it meant she already knew where Anna was. The red haired Princess of Arendelle smiled, and leaned back against the wall, sitting on her hard stone bed.

* * *

"I'm coming with you," Kristoff had voiced it as an order. Elsa had been so shocked at his directness it rendered her momentarily speechless. "You're not the only one that misses her, okay. You're not the only that cares about her either—we all do. We all want to see her back safe. For you especially, but I'd like to get a little bit of her back for me."

"You couldn't help when she got kidnapped in the first place, Kristoff. I need people that can fight," she sighed heavily. "I need to fight."

"That was low, Elsa. Really low. You know exactly why I couldn't fight the first time. And do you think Anna would appreciate knowing I died in some futile attempt to save her."

"…no." Ice was beginning to creep up the walls, and snow drifted lazily from the ceiling of Anna's room.

"I–I'm sorry I said that way, but I really do care about her. Maybe not as much as you do—I don't think anyone cares about her that much—I mean, that strongly—I–I…" Kristoff trailed off. He just couldn't say these things right when he was nervous. What he'd meant to say was that no one cared for Anna more than her sister, but apparently Elsa actually understood his terribly misused words.

"I understand what you're saying Kristoff. I really do appreciate you trying to help, it's just—"

"Just what, Elsa?" Kristoff felt emboldened by the fact Elsa had understood his intent better than his words. "Tell me, is it a good idea to tell all those men out there that you're taking directions from a magical talking snowman?"

"Probably not," Elsa decided at length.

"So I can guide you to the fort—then I can stay out of the way if you tell me to. I might not listen though, I want Anna to see me as a knight in shining armour."

"Why can't that be me?"

"Because, well… umm… Queens aren't normally knights?"

"Why do you _really_ want to go, Kristoff?"

"Because, if Anna's—hurt—we might need to get her to a physician as quickly as possible. No one can pull a sled through the forest paths quicker than Sven—oh, and I might need to borrow a sled."

"After what you did to the last one?" Elsa winked at Kristoff.

"No, no really, that was all their fault," Kristoff held up his hands in surrender.

"And what if Anna is"—Elsa couldn't bring herself to say it—"worse than just hurt. What then?"

"I—we—take her to the valley of the living rock; to the Trolls. My family there will know what to do."

"Anna's lucky to have you," Elsa smiled at her sister's boyfriend. "You can come with us. The fusiliers have a munitions store they were wondering how to move, and I think you just gave them a perfect solution."

"Wait… you want to put the explosives _inside_ the sled this time?"

"Powder and shot. They said they'd need a lot to breach the fort. I humoured them."

"What?"

"I don't like it when I'm angry… but I know I will be, so I'll use it. I'm not sure, but I think I could level the entire fort if I had to."

"But Anna's inside."

"I know. I said, _if_ I had to."

* * *

Elsa stared at the edifice in front of her. The old border fort of Løkarna; well that was what the map had said when she'd consulted it the previous night with Kai. She'd told him why, and to prepare the castle's staff for 'any eventuality'. She hated thinking of it, but she had to be prepared. And if that had happened, and the object of her vengeance stood before her, Elsa wasn't sure she'd be able to control her powers. She wasn't sure she would want to, either. Because, right now, just staring at those gates, Elsa wanted to tear them from their hinges and blast clean through the inner sanctum of that fort, laying waste to everything in her wake. She _wanted_ to.

Ingvar—apparently a good friend of Hank—knelt next to her chair and pointed at the north-east tower, and at the east wall just above the gates. Straining her eyes she followed his gaze, just making out a single man in each location. Both of the men wore breastplates that reflected the dawning sun. Both wore crimson uniforms beneath their armour. Elsa took a deep breath, not calming herself, but recalling every torture and indignity that had been mentioned in that damnable letter. It was time to let these men see her displeasure. A gale began to howl at her back, and clouds rippled overhead, building and roiling into something near a blizzard. Snow began to fall, heavier and heavier, until the guards were nearly invisible to her.

Taking aim with his rifle, Ingvar stepped back, kneeling for a more stable shot. He was taking the guard on the tower. The men with him already knew he would take the more difficult of the targets. Two other men took aim at the same Weseltonian soldier. On Elsa's right another trio of fusiliers was taking aim at the guard on the wall. All it would take was a single word from the Queen, and two lives would end. Two lives would end, and the attack would begin. She took a deep, shuddering breath. There was no going back, not from here. If she became a monster for what she had done, so be it. She would leave, she would tell Anna why, even if the red haired Princess hated her for ending these lives, she still deserved an explanation. And if Anna could forgive her for what she was about to do for her sake, then she might one day be able to forgive herself. The Queen of Arendelle took another shaky breath.

"Fire."

The rifles cracked out as a single report, echoing from the walls of the fort. Smoke clouded the air around the shooters. The guard on the tower fell backwards—Elsa had seen red erupting from the back of his head and from behind his back. She had just ordered someone killed—it was irrevocable. The snow began to slow, drifting lazily through the air. The other guard had already fallen, she hadn't had time to see. But now the way was clear, and it was her turn to act. Gerhardt might have been—disappointed—with her powers earlier, but this was the other level of which he spoke: Tactical. Using them directly on the field of battle. Risking the Queen, but for the ultimate gain.

She needed focus, but she also needed power. Fury was her choice. Papa had always said that someone who remained calm, even when they were angry, was a most dangerous foe. Now she would prove him right. She would prove Gerhardt right too, and that stung, but so be it. She was ready. These bastards had stolen her sister, stolen Anna. And now, now she was going to. Get. Her. Back. The power flew from her hands, coating the massive gates in ice and snow, fractals and spikes of jagged ice erupting from the wood and iron in front of her. The men around her jumped back, those who had shot taking the time to reload. But she had magic. Magic didn't _need_ to reload. It also meant she didn't need all the extra powder the fusiliers had packed in Kristoff's sled, safely hidden in the woods.

Her arms extended to their fullest reach, her hands curled into rough claws, Elsa let a savage grin cross her face. What she was doing had every chance of tearing her up inside, but if—when—she got Anna back, it would be worth every wound. Every scar. She would treasure them as medals; medals of the time _she_ saved Anna. The gates were creaking and groaning under the weight of the ice. The hinges made a tortured shriek. Elsa rolled her shoulders, and power surged through her, erupting from her hands in a massive blast of cold air and frozen fractals.

The gates splintered and groaned, unmoving for a long moment. Then the ice cracked and shattered in a crazy spiderweb as the stones supporting the gates gave way, pulling more and more of the wall down with them. Dust choked the air, and for a moment grey powder and white snow obscured the rent in the walls of the fort. The hole was half as wide again as the gates had been, the stones in the wall still settling, the arch growing unstable. Elsa shored it up with a jagged pillar as the first of the fusiliers with her ran past. The walls were breached, the assault was on.

Kristoff was at her side in seconds, wearing the full plate of a Palace Guard, and carrying a longsword. He had sworn he'd be able to fight, so Elsa had given him appropriate wargear. It made sense considering he wasn't used to firing rifles, and that was the only thing the fusiliers had spare. Kristoff strode ahead of Elsa, staying in front of her and one pace to the left, allowing her a clear line of sight to any threats that might be in front of them. Like crossbows being fired from windows and loopholes, except that those had already been frozen over and filled with ice. There was only one clear way into the fort's keep, which meant it would be barred, and heavily guarded. Let these bastards try and keep her out. She would show them what her magic could really do. She would show everyone. And if Anna still loved her afterwards, she would be the luckiest person in the world.

"Step aside," Elsa's voice was below freezing as she pushed her chair past the fusiliers flanking the doors. All of them were fitting bayonets.

Elsa placed both hands against the door. She closed her eyes, calling upon every last ounce of rage and hate she'd felt while reading that note. Everything they might do to scare Anna. To try and control her. Ice dusted her hands, and her breath clouded despite the chill. She remembered the last few lines of that letter, and all she saw was red.

The door exploded, ice and splinters ricocheting through the entrance to the fort. The barricade behind the door had been obliterated in the the blast, everything used to bar their entrance reduced to twisted wreckage and rough planks of wood. If fabric had once covered any of the items, it hung in useless tatters. Bowstrings twanged and gunshots echoed through the hall as Elsa realized the fusiliers had surged past her, firing point blank then driving home with their bayonets. Kristoff ran ahead of her, the rest of her soldiers piling in behind her as she crossed through the hall.

Bodies. Just… bodies. Blood. Death by proxy, and she was responsible for all of it. No, she told herself sternly. The soldiers brought this on themselves. They stole your sister. A royal princess. They got what they deserved. Did they? a small voice asked inside her. Did they deserve this? but the voice spoke again. Or did you want them to _suffer_? Elsa blinked, shaking her head. This was not the time for such thoughts. She had to focus. She had to find Anna, make sure she was safe. Save her. Rescue her. All those things and more. But first, she had to survive.

She watched as Kristoff barreled into the first soldier, his armoured fist connecting with the man's face with a horrendous crash and a sound she swore was the man's jaw shattering into a million pieces. Kristoff turned, frantically parrying against a soldier that was obviously far more of a swordsman than he was. Elsa threw out her right hand, aiming at the soldier just past Kristoff, raising his crossbow. There was a flash, a bang, and a hail of razor sharp shards shredded the man's arm. Elsa gasped at the sight of all the blood, streaming from a thousand tiny cuts. But the man wasn't dead, and he raised the crossbow in his good arm, aiming at her this time.

There was a louder bang, the tang of gunsmoke, and the Weseltonian soldier fell backwards, a hole punched clean through his breastplate. There must have only been a handful of guards left, probably trying to keep her away from Anna, or—Elsa surged through the fray, a howling gale blasting aside everything in her path. Shot, bolt, or sword, all of them failed to find purchase against her. There were only two doors out of the room she was now in. One was much heavier than the other, solid wood planks, iron banding. A sliding bar. Something that could be locked, which meant something for keeping things—or people—inside, or possibly out. Either way, it was her best shot.

There was a scream from behind the door. Elsa knew at once who it was, and what it meant. Her rage peaked, and the door ahead of her vanished. Wood and iron stood no chance against the unfettered rage of the Snow Queen. Elsa was going too fast. She couldn't stop. Stairs. Why hadn't she thought of that? Dungeons went _underground_. Her chair caught on the first step, and rolled sideways. Elsa fell with it, barely having time to cover her face. The jarring impact with the floor never happened.

Snow. The floor was covered in snow. Oh, right, her powers. Her icy chair was battered, but it would hold together just a little longer. Elsa heard another scream, summoning an icy gale to blast the snow aside. Then she heard a splash, and an almighty ringing sound. A man staggered out of a small cell, fire burning in his eyes. As he turned back to the cell, its occupant screamed again.

Anna.

Everything seemed to slow down. Elsa threw her hand forward wanting to save her sister. To stop this man from doing whatever it was he planned on doing. A dart of glittering ice and snow seemed to only creep towards the man, the soldier, wearing the same crimson shirt. Elsa wasn't sure if her magic would make it in time as the soldier seemed to lurch forwards, foot rising to take a single step. All her rage and hate had been funneled into that dart, and Elsa recognized it for what it was a moment before it pierced the side of the man's chest.

It left no wound on his skin. No scars beneath his shirt. It didn't even loosen a single thread in his coat. What it did was far, far worse. Worse than shredding that man's arm. Worse than ripping apart half the fort. Worse than ordering the death of two men, and by proxy, at least a dozen more. It was worse, because she'd done it before. Once. The glittering nature of that icy dart belied it's true harm. Cursed ice. Placed within another heart by her own hand. And it was _fast_. Far too fast. Because, Elsa realized far too late, that this time, it had been completely intentional. She had _wanted_ this man to suffer. She wanted him to _die_. It was true; she _was_ a monster, despite her best efforts to prove otherwise.

"No!" The scream escaped her lips as the soldier's foot touched the stone floor, ice erupting across his entire body. He had a second to look terrified as the ice spread from his chest and down his arms and legs. He held his hands in front of him, uncomprehending as the fractal spirals covered them. His eyes filled with terror as his last breath turned to ice, falling softly to the floor.

Snow was falling, hanging motionless in the air. It didn't matter to Elsa, not anymore. She'd somehow managed to live through own worst nightmare and fulfill Marshal Gerhardt's darkest dream in the same breath. It was over. The darkness had won. But at least… at least Anna was safe.

She came as a vision at first. An angel, but the kind of angel that could wear a halo at a rakish angle and not look odd. The kind of angel that anyone could love. It was the red hair that Elsa saw first. Rough, tangled, but pulled into some semblance of a ponytail. It could be called tidy only by the most strenuous extension of the word. Her eyes, blue-green burned with a fire Elsa had never seen before, and when those orbs settled on Elsa, they filled with naked joy and relief. She knew she was being rescued.

Elsa saw more; she saw that Anna's chest was bound tightly with a bandage over her shoulder. She saw that her sister was wearing trousers—and for some reason that made her both jealous and stupidly happy. She could also see that Anna walked the hall barefoot, and the way she walked made Elsa's breath catch. Anna stumbled, taking a moment to steady herself, but Elsa couldn't rush forward to catch her. Couldn't even summon the strength to cushion her fall with a pile of snow. But Anna was strong. She said nothing as she approached Elsa, and for a moment Elsa was sure she was going to walk right past her.

Now Elsa could see the red mark on her sister's cheek. She could see the bruise colouring her right side. She could see the bandage wrapped around her left wrist. She could see the split on her lower lip. She knew she wasn't worthy—not after what she'd done today—but Elsa wanted to hold her sister, to make everything better, to kiss away all the scars and all the pain. She wanted to so badly. Anna was so close, and this time she simply couldn't hold herself back from what she wanted. It was wrong. It was crazy. But it was what _she_ wanted.

Throwing her arms behind Anna's neck, Elsa pulled her sister down, pulled her close enough that Anna's stray hairs brushed against her cheeks. She wanted this—and Anna wasn't fighting her. Elsa closed the distance, feeling their lips brush. It was the most wonderful, least sisterly feeling in the world. But it was hers, and she would keep it forever, even if Anna ran away right this—wait, what was she doing with her _tongue?_

Anna pulled back after a moment, winking and sticking her tongue out at her older sister.

"Well, that's one way to say thanks. I mean, wow, Elsa, I thought I knew, but… wow… you're a really good kisser, you know that?"

"You–you don't hate me?"

"Oh, please," Anna waved her hand dismissively, collapsing comfortably into the pile of snow. "I could never hate you."

"But I–I killed people. I killed that man attacking you. I ordered the fusiliers with me to kill those men guarding the walls. So much death—I'm responsible for all of it."

Anna slapped her sister. Hard.

"What was that for?!"

"You stinker; you still think I'll think you're some kind of monster if you're forced to do something terrible to help me—to help anyone. You're an idiot sometimes, Elsa. I love you, but… sometimes I wonder how straight that head of your is really screwed on. You're like the smartest person I know and—hey, be quiet, it's my turn to talk, these bastards wouldn't listen to a word I said—oh, what, like you've never used bad language before? Anyway, you're smart, and kind, and caring; and no matter what you do, no matter what you think you've done, that'll never change. That's what I love most about you Elsa. You're willing to sacrifice so much to protect the people you love… sometimes you don't leave enough of yourself behind, and it makes me sad."

Anna scrambled around in the snow for a moment. "Here, let me find your marbles, I think you might have dropped them earlier."

"ANNA!"

The Royal Princess of Arendelle chose that moment to roll around in the snow, giggling in fits.

* * *

"Larsson, open up," Vanja quirked an eyebrow at the scribe's unruly appearance as the door cracked open. "The Queen's gone."

"What?" Larsson's door opened wider, surprise evident on his face.

"Gerhardt said something about finding the people responsible. Said you should be there, at the trials."

"Gerhardt said that?"

"Well, his language describing the traitors in the mob was rather more colourful, but that's the general tone of it," Vanja smiled, rolling on her heels. She already knew how this was going to play out. "He said you should be the first one there."

Larsson had the switchblade out before Vanja could react. As it plunged through the furs she wore he saw nothing registering on her face. Knife in her chest, Vanja smiled darkly, using the scribe's surprise as her greatest weapon.

"Larsson, you wound me," and then, with no small amount of satisfaction, she dropped him with a glorious right cross. She called over her shoulder. "Justicar Kristoffersen, he's all yours."

Stepping away from the door, Vanja wrenched the small knife from her chest. She dropped it, undoing three layers of furs, revealing the leather strapping covering her chest. The knife had still managed to pierce the hide armour she was wearing, and it had taken every ounce of self control she'd had not to react to getting stabbed. But the look on Larsson's face when he figured it out had been priceless. She could feel a little blood soaking into her undershirt, and Vanja took a risk to gently press against the top of her breast through her armour.

"Ow."


	38. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of my first major arc. When I first wrote it nearly eight? months ago it truly did feel like the end of all things, but that would not have been fair to my readers, or to me. There's always one more story to tell.

Anna rose slowly, not bothering to dust the snow off her half-naked body. She wasn't just being lazy; it felt amazing against her savaged back. When they'd given her all those lashes, they hadn't held back. It burned, but the snow—the chill of the snow felt sooo good. Anna allowed herself a little shiver, some of the powder falling from her back and shoulders, a few flakes sticking to her hair. She looked at Elsa, the darkness behind her sister's eyes. She'd thought they were past this—and then she remembered her own reaction to killing a man. Maybe even two men, because she'd stabbed Mikkel hard enough to break the dagger. She let out a quiet breath, turning to look back down the hall at the icy statue in front of her cell.

It was Sten. The one who'd been all hands, and had tried to touch her—there. In her weakened state she wasn't sure how long she could have resisted him. With the commotion she'd heard, even knowing Elsa was nearby, she was sure that her tormentor was going to do more than just touch her. She was incredibly grateful for what Elsa had done to save her, but it looked like her sister was rather less happy about what had happened. That train of thought stopped abruptly when someone wearing the armour of a Palace Guard began descending the steps into the dungeon.

The sword fell with a noisy clatter, bouncing down the steps. The helmet was thrown aside, and Anna got a good look at the face underneath. She barreled into Kristoff just as he reached the bottom step. Hitting someone at full speed was not normally considered the most romantic of ways to enter a kiss. Especially not when the object of her affection cracked his head against the wall behind them trying to arrest some of her momentum. It didn't matter that he tasted of sweat and salt and reindeer, or that his armour was cold and hard, pressing painfully into her stomach. Because for that moment, he belonged to her, and she was going to make sure he knew it.

Kristoff gently pushed the young princess away, trying to take in everything. "I guess I really am a knight in shining armour—I rescued the Princess, and I got her kiss."

Anna laughed, throwing her arm around her boyfriend's shoulders. "Come on, let's get out of here." She heard Elsa's breathless gasp behind her. "Hey Elsa, we're going home."

"What… what did they _do_ to you?" Elsa's voice was barely above a whisper, breathless with shock and anger. "Did they do this to—because of me?"

"No, Elsa, it's not your fault. They… punished me. Lashes, for trying to escape. I think they were always trying to hurt you though. Everything they did. Not just to hurt me, but to hurt you too. They kept calling you the witch-queen. It's like they wanted you to totally lose it, go wild with your powers. But I warned them… I warned them what would happen if you got angry, but they just wouldn't listen and now you saved me and I love you and I just really, really want to go home. Oh, and I wet my pants."

"What?" Elsa tilted her head sideways, and Anna laughed, realizing her words had come out in the wrong order. Again.

"I mean not now, I'm potty trained. But when they punished me—they left me outside all night. All night. It rained, and I was really, really desperate and it was so embarrassing and please don't laugh because it was terrible, but I didn't have a choice; but hey, at least my leg was warm."

"So they tortured you," Elsa's voice was colder than the ice covering the walls. "And you _still_ can't take this thing seriously?"

Anna moved back to her sister, kneeling in front of her so they were eye to eye. It was time for a little bit of truth—and it was okay if Kristoff saw it, because she was sure he'd be seeing a lot more of them in the future anyway. Anna took a deep breath, looking her sister directly in her bright, blue eyes. Eyes filled with fear for her and concern for her sister. Elsa was afraid of what she was going to say, but Anna knew the words had to be spoken. She wouldn't let her sister hide all that pain anymore—but that meant she, too, had to be honest about her suffering. But she'd never had a problem with honesty, just with getting the words out right.

"I'm sorry Elsa, but if I took it seriously right now, I might break. I–I might; it doesn't mean I will. But I don't want to put you through that right now. Not when you've just rescued me. Not when we can go home and be safe. I'd really like to go home and be safe now, Elsa; is that okay with you?" and Anna gave her sister a weak smile, not bothering to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. Tears of shame, tears of joy, tears of relief. All those things and more. "I've had to be strong for you—for us—for so long now, Elsa. I need you to be strong for me this time. Just… for me. Just for a little while."

Anna's smile cracked when Elsa looked back at her, hurt flashing across her face. She didn't understand—why was _Elsa_ hurt when it wasn't her that had had to be strong for so long? Or maybe that was exactly it, she hadn't been strong, and now she was afraid she couldn't be. But Elsa had been strong, she'd been strong for thirteen years, and Anna was beginning to understand that even though being shut out had hurt, maybe shutting her out had hurt _more_. Just one more thing to add to the list of things she wanted to ask Elsa.

It had been three days, and all she really wanted to do was go home. Take a bath. And sleep for a week—because these men had been evil masterminds, forcing her to wake up at dawn every day. Even in her own head she couldn't take things seriously. She smiled at the thought of how nothing really seemed to have changed between them. Well, aside from the fact Elsa had kissed _her_ this time. It had been a good kiss too, like her sister had really, really meant it. Maybe she did, Anna realized with a slight start—maybe she still does want me in that way… and I don't think I'd deny her that wish either. No more secrets. But then I like Kristoff that way too, so if I—if we? I mean, does it even count? What am I even…

"I need a drink."

"What?" Elsa looked her sister in the eye, the hurt long gone, trying to figure out what was going on behind those beautiful turquoise orbs. Anna merely smiled back at her.

"I'm thirsty, I can't think straight right now—I mean, even less straight than usual so I thought maybe a drink of something would help. Oh, hey, thanks Kristoff. Where were you keeping that?"

Taking a long drink from the flask, Anna watched as Kristoff's cheeks started to colour. She'd seen exactly where he'd pulled the flask from out of the corner of her eye, so it made no sense for him to be blushing. And then he was taking the coat off one of the soldiers that had just come down the stairs, rifle at the ready. The soldier relaxed, shucking off his coat and turning the same shade of red as Kristoff. Anna didn't understand what the problem was until Kristoff draped the coat over her shoulders, gently helping her to get her arm through the sleeve and button the front of the coat. That was it… aside from the trousers she was essentially naked—although the bandage did good job of hiding her breasts, she was still making people uncomfortable by being comfortable in her own skin. She laughed, shaking some of the snow from her hair.

"Okay, now I'm dressed, can we please go home?" when nobody moved she shouldered past Kristoff and began to pad barefoot up the stairs. "What's everyone waiting for?"

The soldier stepped in front of Anna, rifle held at the ready, escorting her to the door. Kristoff scrambled to collect his sword and helmet, sliding the long blade back into the scabbard hanging at his hip. Elsa took a deep breath before moving, but she didn't head for the stairs. Anna paused, watching her roll down the hall, towards the frozen statue of Sten. She couldn't hear what her sister said, but she could see the way she brushed the back of her fingers against the statue's cheek. She could see the way Elsa's eyes filled with tears as she turned away from the statue, one hand gently gripping something beneath her dress before she moved back towards the stairs.

* * *

Hank slowly forced himself into a sitting position. The physician told him he had been very lucky—the bullet had gone clean through the meat of his side, missing anything vital. Just. He didn't feel very lucky. It was his job to take a bullet for the Queen, but it still hurt like hell. At least Elsa was safe; and that was his first question to his new visitor. While he might not have worked directly for the man anymore, he still owed him some respect—even with what he'd said to Elsa the previous day.

"No, Lieutenant Eriksson, Queen Elsa has not returned yet."

"You have no idea when she might return, Marshal Gerhardt?"

"She planned to make the raid at dawn. I would assume she did so. I do not know how long it would take to storm the location in which the Royal Princess is being held, but I do not expect it to have taken overly long. It is the return journey I would worry about, three hours, traversing the border forest. Possibly longer, depending on what paths they are forced to take."

"Marshal… what of the men that made the attempt on Queen Elsa's life?"

"The would be assassin will live—for however long the Queen determines upon her return. Five of the others will also be spending a rather long time in the castle's dungeons."

"The sixth man?"

"Is mostly likely suffering a chill that would make Queen Elsa's magic seem positively benign. Dante was very specific about what—or moreover, who—the ninth circle of hell was reserved for."

"Who killed him?" at this, Hank watched the Marshal turn pensive for a moment before replying solemnly.

"Arendelle," Gerhardt wore a cold smile. "It seems the townspeople were most displeased with the attempt on the Queen's life. I think he got off too easily."

Hank had no reply for that. Nor did he expect the Marshal's next words.

"We found Larsson. He's been working for Weselton for a long time. Justicar Kristoffersen should be compiling the evidence against him as we speak; not that we're going to need much, he tried to stab miss Ostberg-Lang—reports say she was rather unimpressed with his actions. We still have a lot of work to do—we have to find out just who else Larsson was working with, and we need to send Weselton a clear message that we will not tolerate this kind of treachery."

Hank recalled the events of the previous day, on the docks, the ice covering the fjord. Surely Weselton hadn't tried to reach the harbour again?

"I think we should use their fleet to send that example," the Marshal spoke firmly. "They've anchored beyond the ice, but they've made no further move towards the town or the harbour. Queen Elsa didn't really leave them much choice in the matter. We kept a close watch in case they tried to send out a landing party, or deliver messengers past the cliffs, but so far, nothing. Unfortunately, with the harbour frozen there's not a lot we can do in reply. We are at an impasse; and I am unwilling to act without orders from the Queen."

"Marshal Gerhardt, did you only visit to update me on the strategic situation we find ourselves in?" Hank was finding it difficult to mask his impatience. It was useful information to know, it just had no direct bearing on him or his skills. It was almost like Gerhardt was simply trying to make conversation using the one thing they would both understand.

"No, lieutenant Eriksson, that is not my only purpose in being here today. I came to thank you for saving the Queen's life. I also have something that belongs to you—I cleaned the traitorous blood off it myself and made sure it was polished to match," Marshal Gerhardt lifted Hank's sword, holding it carefully in both hands, presenting to him the same way he had first received it. Hank took the blade carefully, wincing as he was forced to turn slightly and extend his arm. He slid the blade back into the scabbard, then laid them both on the long table beside his bed. Then he shook Gerhardt's hand.

"Thank you."

"It truly is a fine blade, but the balance is a little off for a man of my stature," Hank almost smiled as the Marshal patted his belly. Almost. Being behind a desk, combined with the good meals that came with being an officer in charge of an entire army, Gerhardt had lost some of the fitness of his youth. He was still a capable soldier in a pinch, and Hank respected that, but it was the Marshal's mind that was his real weapon.

"I'm glad you got some use out of it; I was rather incapacitated at the time."

"You took a bullet for her majesty. I have a feeling that was what had been asked of you, and you did not hesitate. I would not have marked you out as such a protector myself, lieutenant, but it would appear you are regardless. All of Arendelle owes you a debt of gratitude; as do I. The debt will be repaid in full for your actions, never doubt that."

Gerhardt rose, turning to leave. Hank spoke softly. "I never asked for any of this."

"You were chosen," the Marshal bowed, and left, leaving Hank wondering exactly what he had meant.

* * *

Home. They were finally home. All three of them. Elsa, Anna, and Kristoff. Sven was panting lightly as Kristoff unhitched the sled. Anna had been uncharacteristically quiet on the journey home, but from the half smile on her lips and the steady rhythm of her breathing Elsa knew she was soundly asleep. A minor miracle really, given how rough the ride had been through parts of the border forest. But all that was behind them now. Now… now they had the future to look forward to; perhaps an uncertain future, but Elsa would willingly explore it with her sister. She would be strong for Anna—even if it hurt. She knew, deep in her heart, knew, that Anna could never shut her out. It wasn't that her sister didn't want to talk about what had happened—she simply didn't want to talk about it now. Elsa didn't blame her.

Kai stood at the castle gates, Gerda off to one side. Kristoff carefully led Sven past them, towards the stables. Elsa watched him go, gently nudging her sister. That got no response. Harder. Still nothing. She resorted to an elbow in the ribs, forgetting the giant bruise she had seen there earlier in the day. Anna woke up with a pained gasp, clutching her side. She stared daggers at her sister.

"Elsa, was that really necessar—oh. We're home. We're really home," Anna stood, half dragging Elsa up with her. It took most of Elsa's skill not to fall out of the sled as her sister essentially ran for the castle gates. Yes, she decided after a moment, still the same old Anna. What did I ever do to deserve a person this amazing in my life?

"Your highness, such a relief to see you upon your safe return," Kai spoke formally, his tone masking the relief he felt. Anna darted forward and threw her arm around the ever reliable servant's shoulders. He returned the hug gingerly as the red head in his arms gasped when his hands touched her back. "My apologies, Princess Anna; are you hurt?"

"I—yes. A lot, actually, Kai. Really, they…" Anna trailed off, her eyes growing distant until Elsa was able to take her hand.

"Anna, you don't have to say anything. You don't owe anyone an explanation. You don't have to pret—you don't have to _be_ strong for us," Elsa gently stroked her sister's back, trying to be tender and reassuring, trying to avoid the scars hidden beneath the jacket she was wearing—a jacket that virtually touched her knees. Acting as Anna's older sister, Elsa put as much of her own strength and courage as she could into her next words. "You don't have to be strong for us, because we're ready to be strong for you. We'll be strong for you until you can be strong again—no matter how long it takes."

Anna gently pushed Kai away, dropping Elsa's hand before she turned to face her sister in full.

"I don't care what it costs, I'll be there for you. Just like you were always there for me. Even when I didn't have the courage to reach out for you, you were there. I'm going to show you just how much you mean to me. And if you think I'm wrong, then, well"—Elsa stuck her tongue out at her sister in a most un-queenly gesture— "you're a dummy."

Anna fell to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes. Elsa could almost see everything crashing down around her sister, all her nightmares made real, all her suffering that had to be acknowledged before it could be soothed. Elsa pushed her chair a little closer, and tried to lift her younger sister from the ground.

"You, of all people, should know there's no reason to grovel at the Queen's feet."

Anna laughed, her tears gently sliding down her cheeks. But it was a happy laugh—and the most beautiful sound Elsa could ever recall hearing. So as Anna stood once more, her legs only a little shaky, Elsa placed an arm around her sister's waist and gently guided her towards the castle.

"Let's get you a bath; you smell like a pigsty."

"No I don't!" Anna was as indignant as ever. She lifted her arm and gave it an experimental sniff through the jacket. And as her nose wrinkled in disgust, Elsa knew her sister was going to be alright. No matter what happened, as long as they had each other everything would turn out okay. She smiled. They could even be the last two people on Earth, but as long as they were together, it would have been okay. Just being with Anna was enough—and in that moment, Elsa realized she really did love her sister, in every possible way. It was impossible not to; Anna was just… Anna. That was all she was, and also all she would ever need to be. Elsa sighed, and smiled, quietly closing the castle doors behind them.


	39. Say Something

They were in the bath. It had, after all, been the general intent. But Elsa was worried, it seemed to her as though her sister was starting to crack. She wasn't sure if having Anna fall apart was good or bad—or even necessary—but it looked like it was going to happen anyway. She reached out to return the soap and was utterly shocked when Anna shrank back, her arm shielding her chest and her eyes full of fright. Those eyes darted wildly around the room, trying to take everything in, then they filled with tears and shame when they saw the look of pained confusion on Elsa's face.

"I–I'm sorry…" Elsa could hear her sister's voice at the point of breaking.

"No—No, there's nothing to be sorry for, Anna. It's my fault; I should have asked. I'm sorry," her arm still outstretched, Elsa gingerly relaxed her grip on the soap and offered it to her sister. It was taken just as gingerly from her hand, as if Anna was afraid to touch her. Elsa tried to hide the pain she felt—for Anna. Always for Anna, because whatever her sister had been through, it was hell, and she needed to deal with it in her own way.

Watching her sister silently, she saw Anna lather most of her body—mostly underwater. She saw the way her sister's hand moved tentatively around the bruises and scars on her ribs and chest. She saw the silent plea in her eyes as she was unable to get the soap around her back without dropping it or touching too many of the painful looking welts and scars. But Elsa didn't immediately move to her sister's aid, instead, quietly, she asked permission.

"Do you–do you want me to help?"

Anna could only nod. It seemed so wrong to Elsa, she was supposed to be the silent one, the one who had difficulty asking for and accepting help; but now everything had been reversed. She wanted to know what those men had done to her sister so she could make it better—but there was a larger part of her that didn't want to know; didn't want to understand; because she hated seeing Anna in pain, and she was afraid of what might happen if her emotions got out of control yet again. She hadn't seen herself storming through the fort, but helping Anna out, through the wreckage, she finally understood how terrifying her powers must have been. It had suddenly felt like one step forward, two steps back. Just like now.

Anna handed her the soap, and Elsa took it gently, lathering up her hands in the bath's still hot water—she didn't want to take any chances with her powers causing any icing. She still didn't know how best to handle this, Anna's back was to her, and the redhead kept craning her neck around, trying to see what Elsa was doing. Fear and apprehension were writ large in Anna's stunning turquoise eyes and Elsa felt an enormous stab of guilt. She had always wanted to touch Anna like this—but never like this, not because of what had happened to her sister.

"Anna," Elsa spoke just above a whisper, trying to calm her sister. "I'm going to touch your back now. If it hurts, or you want me to stop, just… say something, or make a noise, or—I don't know, but I'll understand."

As soon as Elsa's hands made contact with Anna's shoulders she jerked forwards as if burnt. Elsa barely managed to hold back her gasp of shock. Anna didn't, but slowly, deliberately, she hunched her shoulders and gently leaned back, inviting her older sister to try again. So Elsa did, with just one hand this time, and when she touched Anna's milky white flesh, her sister didn't pull away—she tensed, rolling her shoulders forward, but she didn't pull away. The young blonde then placed her other hand gently against her sister's spine, brushing long red hairs out of the way. She spread the lathered soap tenderly over Anna's savaged back, hating the wounds she saw incised in the softly freckled skin. It just wasn't right that her sister had been hurt so badly in an attempt to hurt _her_. Now came the hard part—washing the scars.

"Anna?"

Once again, the young redhead could only nod in acknowledgement.

"I–I'm going to try and wash over one of the cuts, it–it might hurt. It probably will," Elsa heard a slight sniff in front of her. "Can you be brave for me?"

Anna's arm rose from the water, her hand going toward her face, and Elsa knew she was rubbing her eyes. Elsa watched as the arm fell again, the hand balled into a fist, knuckles turning white. Hands covered in foam once again, she reached out towards the highest scar on her sister's back, a deep, red slash that looked slightly inflamed. She thought she knew what was going to happen, but at Anna's sudden gasp of pain she felt a little of her magic swirl from her hand. No. No, it was wrong—the magic wasn't supposed to touch Anna, not now. Except…

"Wow… Elsa…" Anna's voice was a breathless whisper, and yet she sounded less hurt than surprised. "Wow…"

"What?" Elsa's voice sounded very small, even to her. She was still afraid she'd done something wrong.

"Please—don't stop. Wow…"

"Wh–what did I do?"

"Th–the cold," Anna shivered slightly. Elsa wondered if she was going delirious after her ordeal. Anna elaborated haltingly. "Back… sore. Cuts, scars. Cold… good. Nice. Please?"

Then Elsa understood what was going on. The cuts on her back were painful to Anna, and the cold of her own magic was soothing them. It was so simple she was surprised she hadn't figured it out as soon as it happened—but then, she was used to thinking of her magic in a negative sense, despite all the good it had wrought, despite all the fun she had had playing with it, with Anna. It didn't matter now; if this was what Anna wanted, Elsa was more than willing to give it to her.

Hands still covered in lather, Elsa concentrated on her magic, on her hands, keeping them cold—not freezing, just cold—and gently placed them against her sister's back once more. She felt Anna twitch, holding back the impulse to draw away. She heard a sigh, and suddenly Anna was that little bit closer, physically pressing her back against Elsa's hands. The platinum blonde elder sister smiled, taking one hand to trace the jagged circle at the redhead's left shoulder. She wondered what had caused it. Anna didn't seem to talkative at that moment, sighing again, and shivering under her sister's touch.

Her back was clean, and Elsa gave her sister a gentle tap against the shoulder to let her know she was done. Anna slipped beneath the water for a moment, shaking to remove most of the soap and the dirt under it. She rose with a soft gasp, still facing away from Elsa. Then she just sat there, unmoving. Elsa extended a hand, intending to take her sister's shoulder, but she stopped, her hand hovering halfway between them. She let her hand fall with a quiet splash. Anna didn't move.

"Anna?"

No response.

"Anna?"

Still nothing. Elsa was starting to get worried. She'd _never_ seen Anna act like this. After everything… she was afraid those men at the fort—those bastards from Weaseltown—had somehow managed to break the strongest and most beautiful person in the world. If they had… well, Elsa saw no problem declaring war on Weaseltown in that case. It would have been justified in any case, but this would make it… personal.

"Anna?" Elsa went to ask the question she feared most—because she already knew the answer, and she never wanted to hear it from her sister. "Are you okay?"

Anna didn't speak. Elsa got the distinct feeling she couldn't. It was a feeling she knew all too well. She was used to dealing with it herself—but in others, she was less sure of how to handle things. After a long moment Anna shook her head violently, 'no', and dragged her knees up to her chest, sitting in the middle of the bath, shaking slightly. Elsa screwed her eyes shut, wishing she didn't have to see this. She could already feel her heart breaking, and when that happened, she didn't know if she would be strong enough to support Anna anymore.

Liar! She shouted at herself. You'll be there for Anna even if it _destroys_ you. You're just afraid of—I am not _afraid_. I will be there for Anna. It broke me once, but she helped me put everything back together. How is this any different? How could I do any _less_ for the sister who has saved my life countless times? I don't care what it costs, I don't care what it breaks; I'll be there for Anna. Always. She was always strong for me, now… now I have to be strong for her—even if we _both_ break because of it. We can help each other put ourselves back together, because we both know Anna is at her very best when she's trying—hopelessly—to help someone else.

"Anna?" Elsa kept her voice low, calm and level, trying to be reassuring. Anna didn't respond at first, so Elsa continued with her question. "Would you like me to wash your hair?"

Anna remained motionless.

"Y–you don't have to; not if you don't want to. I just thought it might feel nice to have clean hair—I could brush it for you later; would you like that?"

Anna shook her head, sending ripples across the bath, but then slowly, deliberately, she nodded, scooting back towards Elsa. Elsa was glad she couldn't see her sister's face—and that Anna couldn't see hers either. She knew the pain both of them were feeling was unbearable—and that neither of them wanted to put the other through it. Anna had been right, Elsa realized; she was willing to sacrifice so much for her sister that sometimes she felt there wasn't anything left. The worst part was Elsa was okay with that, as long as Anna had some of her, she didn't need to keep any of herself.

Shivering slightly despite the warmth of the water, Anna gently handed her sister the shampoo. Elsa took it, gently teasing out the tangles in her sister's fiery tresses. It seemed like Anna would start or shiver at the slightest touch, but Elsa knew her sister was being strong—stronger than she ever had been before, accepting that this touch was not the same way her captors had probably touched her. She had to immediately damp her emotions when that thought led to her fears from several days ago, if Anna had been… violated. It was a question Elsa knew she would have to ask, but she dreaded asking it, because of what it would mean if Anna answered in the affirmative.

With Anna's hair now clean and rinsed, Elsa fixed her own locks, working quickly and quietly before she realized the bath was over—there was no use in staying, but she wasn't sure how to get out, not with her sister still sitting in the middle of the bath, hugging her knees to her chest. She wished she'd thought to have Gerda nearby—out of the room, but nearby. It would have made things so much easier, instead of having to ask Anna yet again for her help.

"Anna, I'm—I'm done, can you help me out of the bath?"

The red haired princess shook her head, obviously in great pain, and Elsa knew not to speak. She had some inkling as to why her sister wished to stay in the bath for a while longer, but she herself couldn't. Not without her powers possibly causing her sister even more harm. It was getting difficult to hold everything in. She wanted to talk with Anna, to tell her everything, but she knew the burden would be too much. Anna needed time, and Elsa was more than willing to let her have it, it just… hurt. Elsa placed both hands against the edge of the bath, dragging herself towards the edge, inspecting the floor below. Hard wood, but there was a large, matted rug to protect the floor from drips. Hopefully that would be soft enough.

With a loud splash, a most unqueenly grunt of effort, and a heavy thud, Elsa was out of the bath. She took a moment to just breathe, to gather her thoughts before dragging her towel from on top of the vanity. It seemed so high when she was level with the floor. Only then did she hear the frantic splashing coming from the bath. She dragged herself up with her elbows, spreading her arms on the side of the bath, looking straight into the panicked blue-green eyes of her younger sister.

"It's okay Anna, I'm still here," Elsa watched as Anna's surprise turned to shame, tears making silent tracks down her cheeks. It was so wrong, so very wrong. Elsa could feel the tears welling up in her own eyes, but she bit the them back. She was being strong for Anna—she'd made a promise, and damn if she was going to break that now. But apparently Anna saw that, and it only made things worse. As her sister's eyes closed against the tears, Elsa wished she could reach out, across the bath, wipe away those tears. But she couldn't, her arms weren't long enough, and she gasped and let herself fall to the floor when she noticed she'd frozen a six inch stretch of the bath.

Elsa was dry—mostly—and was gently wheeling her icy chair towards the door to Anna's room when she heard the frantic splashing behind her. She turned when she heard the gasping. Anna's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. There was a growing look of terror behind her eyes, and Elsa realized with horror that her sister was trying to talk. _Trying_ to. But for some reason she couldn't. The words—the sound, her voice—wouldn't come. Stunned silence hung like a dead weight above the both of them. Elsa turned to leave once more, thinking Anna wanted to be left alone. As her hand reached the handle of the door there was even more frantic splashing coming from the bath. She stopped, and turned, taking in the raw panic on her sister's face. She really was falling apart.

"Would you… would…" Elsa's voice broke, and she saw tears slowly coursing down her sister's cheeks. She felt hot tears coursing down her own cheeks. This was all her fault. Her powers. Cutting trade with Weaseltown, convincing Anna she would be safe with just captain Ragnar to protect her—leaving her in the clutches of those men for three days… three days. Elsa felt herself breaking, everything she had built up over the past month falling down around her. So much progress, so much _hope_ ; but if Anna was broken, what did she have left?

Formless and vanquished you shall travel

Where had that come from? What did it even mean? A flash of something, bright light, welcoming feelings, a… dream? Yes, a dream. _That_ dream. She hadn't considered what that line meant, but now she knew. She thought perhaps it had meant how she had surrendered to her rage while storming the border fort of Løkarna. It hadn't meant that at all. Formless… if she fell apart, what form did her spirit take? Vanquished… if she fell apart, that meant she had been defeated, right? Subdued and overcome? But travel… where, and more importantly, how?

Shield and faith will guide your battle

Because she would fight. Always, for Anna. She knew that now. Shield… she would protect Anna from the world, from everything, even if that meant from herself. Faith… here Elsa remained unsure; did this mean her faith, newly rekindled; faith in herself; faith in Anna, faith in something else entirely? And the battle… it wasn't to be a physical a conflict, the war was to be for her sister—for everything she ever was, and ever would be. She was going to fight to get Anna back. The real Anna, not this shell those Weaseltown bastards had reduced her to.

She would show Anna strength, a strength she'd never known herself. She would take all their broken pieces, and in the fires of her heart she would forge them anew. They would be stronger, better, more loving, more caring, more… just, they would be more than they were before. Not less. Because Elsa just would not let that happen. And she could make a start on that right now. She would be strong, and forceful; but unlike those men, she would also be tender, and understanding. She would show Anna how much her strength was valued and respected.

"Anna." She spoke firmly, her voice that of the Queen, not a sister. "Look at me."

Anna turned, fear on her face, drawing back as if afraid she would be punished just for looking. Elsa slowly, carefully, laid her hands in her lap, adopting a patiently regal pose—despite the fact she still wore nothing. Anna looked about to say something, and Elsa knew the pain that would cause, so she held up a hand to stop her sister. There was more to be said, more to be done.

"Anna, you are the strongest person I have ever known. Your strength has always inspired me, more so now than ever. But you had to be strong for too long. Those… men, they broke you. Yet you were still strong, strong enough to hold yourself together, to give _me_ that moment of happiness in finding you. Rescuing you. Saving you. Even at the gates, you were strong—I didn't even see the mask crack. You held yourself together with so much strength it made my heart ache. I don't _care_ if you can see my tears. Not now. You didn't need to be strong to earn that right—it was always yours—to see me at my worst as well as at my best. Because you were always my friend. You were my sister. And _no one_ can ever take that away.

"Anna, you were so strong, you forgot that sometimes we need to be weak… sometimes we need to let it all go. Or maybe you just thought you could never be weak, because you were afraid of hurting me? It does hurt, to see you in this much pain. So long ago I wanted to be protected from it—I still do, a little bit. But I know I need to see this—you need to accept that I can see this, and that even though it hurts me, I'll always be there for you. Just like you were always there for me. I don't care that they broke you—I mean, that they managed to break you—because I'm here, and I'll help you put yourself back together. You don't have to ask me to, I'll do it because I'm your sister, and I love you. Never doubt that.

"Put that hand down missy, I'm not finished—we've seen each other break, we've been through more than any sisters should have to go through. Isolation, fear, loss, sacrifice. Thirteen years apart. Afraid of hurting you; you afraid I hated you. Losing our parents, papa, and mom, and everything they meant to us. Sacrifice—giving up your _life_ for me. I still don't know how to handle that kind of love, but I'm trying. I understand, because I'd do the same for you. We're more alike than either of us would like to admit sometimes. You lost an arm saving me. I don't think it slowed you down at all—if anything, you started moving faster. I lost the use of my legs; and yes, for a time, I despaired about that; but you brought new hope—you even started using the _library_.

"I know it seems silly, but it's just so… you. Anna. You, you are the most amazing person in the world. Never let anyone tell you any different. You might even think you're broken right now—but you're not. Hey, I'm still not finished—you're breaking down, not broken. We can put you back together; if you want my help. I always tried to do it alone, but it never worked. You were always stronger than me though, so, maybe. If you need me, I'll be right here. I'm not leaving you Anna. Not again. You don't have to say anything; you don't have to do anything. You don't owe me, or anyone else in the world a goddamn thing. You've more than earned the right to just take some time off."

Anna smiled weakly upon hearing those words. Despite how small the smile was, how quickly it vanished, Elsa knew she'd said the right things. Mostly, at least, because she'd just said a lot of things. It was one of her longest speeches to date, and she hadn't even planned any of it. It seemed a little more organized than the kind of rambling speeches Anna comforted her with, but that was just one of their minor differences. And there was one more thing she had to make sure Anna knew as well—even if it was crazy, she'd still support her.

"You can spend the whole night in the bath if you want. I don't mind, we'll just find some way to heat the water back up if it gets too cold—because I'm not having you catch a cold on top of everything else—and I'm not leaving your side, either. You don't have to say anything—you don't have to try; I saw how much that hurt you before. I'm going to stay here, for you, on the right side of the door this time. Because you deserve better, and it's time I start acting like it."

Anna opened her mouth, reaching up to point at Elsa, but the sound still wouldn't come. She blinked back tears, and Elsa saw the pain etched on her face. She knew Anna wanted to talk so very badly right now, but something, somehow, was stopping her. They would beat this, together. For now, Elsa just wiped away her tears as Anna smiled up at her, red hair floating around her like a halo.


	40. Laid Bare

"So he says to Maija, that's not the _vihta_ , it's his _letti_."

"Raske, your translation sucks," Vanja thumped her current drinking companion on the arm, laughing at his unfamiliarity with the language. " _Letti_ means braid, not beard. You want _vihne_."

"You've been to Finland?" Søren asked. He was more surprised by that fact than the fact that Vanja had just used his nickname; but most people in town knew that name.

"Now that would be telling."

"Aren't we here to talk?"

Vanja took a great draught from the mug in front of her. "No, we're here to drink. Well, _I_ am. Why are you here anyway guildsman—I thought you were working on some big project."

"It's done." Vanja eyed the leader of the guilds suspiciously. "I'm celebrating."

"You don't seem to be drinking that much—not really celebrating, now, is it?" Vanja slammed her now empty mug against the table, wiping a little of the foam from her lips with the back of her hand. Søren remained silent, but she'd seen the lie in his eyes already. He wasn't celebrating; he was carefully trying to forget something. She really didn't understand that—if she wanted to forget something she'd be almost drowning in alcohol before she somehow staggered through her door and most likely collapsed on the floorboards of her house. She still wasn't calling it a home. That was somewhere out in the wilds, a cave, hidden and secret, where if she wanted to disappear, she could. No one would ever find her—and she would be perfectly happy to end her days there, living off the land like in times of old. She shrugged, knocking her shoulder against Søren's upper arm.

"It's Konrad," he burst out, slamming his half-full mug against the table with enough force to mark the wood and slosh the contents over his hand. "Konrad was… he was one of them." Vanja took note of the pleading way the former blacksmith stared at her. "Where did I go wrong?"

Vanja had no idea. She never had; she'd never had children, and she'd never been good in dealing with younger people. Or older people. Or really any people. On occasion she had wondered if she would have actually _liked_ being shut away for thirteen years as Queen Elsa had been. Probably. That was why she couldn't say anything. It was all she could do to acknowledge Søren's pain. She still didn't know how to show that, either, so she just stared at the bottom of her mug, her eyes as empty as the drink in front of her.

"Sorry," Søren sighed, looking pensively at his own drink. Vanja only just caught his shrug out of the corner of her eyes. "I know you don't care about hearing all this. I just needed to tell someone who wouldn't go spreading it around."

The fur covered, blonde haired and green eyed council advisor seemed to stare at him for a long time, her face unreadable. Then she slapped him before returning to contemplate the bottom of her mug. Her voice sounded strangely hollow to her when she spoke. "It's his problem now."

Søren said something drowned out by a loud shout at the other end of the table. Vanja only just caught it, and the sheer crudity of the words quirked the corner of her mouth. Impressive. "Vanja, he's only fifteen."

"Old enough to be a man in a lot of cultures, certainly old enough to—forget it. I can't do this Ras–Søren. I'm out," and with that statement Vanja stood, placing her empty mug carefully on the table, and left Hus av Strykejern far earlier than she'd planned that night. The moon was out, but clouds covered most of the sky. It felt a little colder than normal, but it was moving in to autumn—or it would be soon. It was expected that things got colder. Certain animals also moulted, changing the colour of their fur. It would be nice to add some white furs to her collection. Or perhaps a gift for the Queen.

Then Vanja stopped, mentally assessing how much she'd actually drunk. Not nearly enough to go that crazy. Why would she even think of giving that charity case of a Queen anything? Was she actually starting to feel sorry for her? Or perhaps it was the sister—Princess Anna—who had been a captive for three days, and returned to the castle only on this night. News like that got around fast, it didn't need royal proclamations to confirm it. Getting her mind back on track, even if said tracks seemed just a little askew, Vanja asked herself what she was really thinking of when she thought of giving the Queen a pelt.

Oh, that was it. Elsa would look spectacular wearing a pure white fur coat—and nothing else. The council's advisor tried to suppress a soft laugh. She wasn't sure anyone had ever seen Elsa naked—but her imagination worked just fine. One more fantasy, just like Søren, late at night, in the smithy; or that soldier, corporal somebody Naess, with the body and the hands and the… Vanja shook her head. Fantasies, that's all they were. Nothing more. Nothing could happen between her and these people—she liked it that way, it was… safe.

Just like her house, on the outskirts, near the forest. A long walk sometimes, but refreshing; the cold night air had almost driven the fog from her mind. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad, and sliding home the third and final bolt on the door, she still had no idea. Her head was clear enough to understand that she might actually have hurt Søren; but it had been his son's choice to get involved with that mob of idiots, not his. Then there was the matter of thinking of Queen Elsa in _that_ way. Vanja smiled. Then again, her royal highness would never know, so… why not?

* * *

Justicar Hanne Kristoffersen did not often bring work home with him, but this was a special case. One of the—men—arrested as part of the mob that had made the attempt on Queen Elsa's life had been Søren Skjeggestad's son, Konrad Sørenson. The Justicar looked carefully at the ledger in front of him, the names he'd taken down, the charges he'd listed against each of them. Treason was listed for every man—and a little further down the page it was laid against Stefan Larsson as well. Honestly, Larsson's crimes should have had a page of their own, but Kristoffersen was concentrating on making the charge of High Treason stick. There was no way he was letting that slimy little weasel get off on any kind of technicality—even if Queen Elsa did have the final say in how punishments would be meted out.

But, Konrad… there was a thorny issue if the council had ever faced one. There just didn't seem to be any good solutions. Pushing for the full punishment as required by the law would alienate Søren, and possibly blacken his reputation. It might also set him against the council—or even force him to step down. It would drive a wedge between the guilds, the council, and the Queen. They could push for leniency, but that might raise the ire of the townspeople; or in the worst case scenario, that of the Queen herself. They could—and probably should—let Queen Elsa decide. Kristoffersen knew that was likely the best choice, but he wasn't sure the Queen would be in the mood to make such choices rationally right now.

Queen Elsa had shown that she was willing to sacrifice Arendelle if it meant saving her sister. Gerhardt had told the rest of the council that much as he'd been past during the day. The Marshal was still waiting permission to end the threat the Weseltonian fleet posed. Justicar Kristoffersen wasn't sure how he felt about that. Queen Elsa would be well within her rights to destroy the fleet in its entirety, given that the kidnap and torture of a royal by another state constituted an act of war. But putting Arendelle on a war footing right now would be very risky, everyone on the council knew how weak their forces really were—save for their fleet, and the Royal Marines. The artillery corps might also see some action in an invasion. That, of course, implied that Arendelle intended to occupy the opposing kingdom—Weselton, in this case—which meant troops to pacify the locals and quell uprisings. They just didn't have enough men to do that.

That meant any military action would most likely limited to punitive strikes, meant more as a deterrent against future transgressions; meant to send a message that such behaviour would not be tolerated from former allies. Kristoffersen sighed, closing the ledger in front of him and placing it on the nightstand. Hopefully everything would look clearer in the morning. Maybe he could even put Ansa on it, she was definitely sharp enough to see it. Torsten too, see if he could assess the military consequences properly. Gerhardt—or his successor—would need a future Justicar that could handle such situations.

* * *

Eventually the bath got cold. Cold enough to be a problem. That was what forced Anna to move, because actually staying in the bath all night would have been silly, even if Elsa was perfectly willing to spend the entire night with her, naked, in her ice chair, silent and loving, but with that broken little smile on her lips. Anna hated it, hated everything. They had hit her, groped her, lashed her, cut her up, shot her—with a crossbow, no less—beaten her up, degraded her, all but… and here she was finally forced to admit what had very nearly happened to her, if Mikkel hadn't been there the first time. If Elsa hadn't frozen another heart the second time. She would have been raped. It was an ugly word. It sounded ugly to her even when she couldn't say it. Ugly and violent and a really special kind of evil. She hated it. Hated everything those men had made her into. Scared and shaking and shivering and afraid to let the person who loved her most even touch her. Afraid that even the lightest touch would lead to more—to worse things. Afraid of being punished for making a mistake. So afraid her voice had been scared away.

No, she decided with conviction; it hadn't been scared away by those men—it had been _stolen_. And just thinking that made her feel a little better, even if it broke her heart to realize what this silence was doing to Elsa. But Elsa was strong now, stronger than she'd ever been. Anna had been working on _that_ for a while; proving to her sister that she was worthy of everything she'd been shown, every sacrifice Anna had made for her. She just hated that Elsa had to use her newfound strength for this. Her mind would have gone further, rambling into the distance, getting darker and darker, but Anna knew better. She knew how to focus on a single task to the exclusion of all else—almost like Elsa. Kai had been teaching her the importance of staying on topic when doing research. So she applied that skill now.

First, get out of the bath. Ignore Elsa's gasp of surprise as you take that step toward the edge. Careful, it's kind slippery and you only have one arm—remember that; one arm. Right, on the mat. It feels really nice on your feet. Okay, cupboard. Robe. One arm. Fold robe over. Cinch it; well sort of. You're dressed. Good job. Now sit; Umm, on the edge of the bath I guess. Now you know all the bad stuff is going to happen. Let it happen. Let it go.

Anna took a deep, shuddering breath. She closed her eyes against the world, gripping the edge of the bath so tightly with her hand she was afraid she might break the tiles. Then, finally, with Elsa watching—sadly, unfortunately, with Elsa watching—Princess Anna of Arendelle fell apart. Completely. She saw Elsa reaching out for her, her eyes pleading, but suddenly she was back in that chair, hand tied behind her back, blindfolded, shirt undone so Sten could grope at her as he pleased. She threw herself backwards, trying to avoid his touch. There was a loud splash, and everything was wet, and cold. Now someone was trying to drown her. She could see a fuzzy shape above the water, clinging to the edge of the bath with one hand, using the other to force her down.

She fought that hand as long as she could, twisting and turning underwater before escaping its deadly reach. Something damp and heavy was weighing her down, and it got worse as her lungs burned for air. She forced herself to surface, hoping she was far enough away from the bastard trying to drown her. Anna sucked in a deep breath when she saw the truth of the matter. It wasn't Sten. The person outside the water—the bath—wasn't trying to drown her. They were trying to save her.

It was Elsa, her face stricken with absolute terror. Everything went kind of blurry, and Anna realized she was crying. She was hurting Elsa even more—but… but Elsa had said it was okay to not be strong anymore. She'd said it to her face, said she'd be strong instead. Anna hoped her sister was right. It was all she could do right now to even be in the same room as Elsa, seeing all the pain etched on her sister's face. Anna wanted to say something, anything, explain what had just happened—her mouth moved, but her throat was tight and the words still wouldn't come. It was the cruelest twist of fate she'd ever experienced—perhaps worse than Hans's revelation in some ways.

She threw her arm around her stomach, hugging herself tightly, realizing seconds too late that that was what Elsa had always done when she felt small and alone. She hated it. She hated having to understand exactly what Elsa felt. She didn't hate Elsa, or her suffering… that was just mean. She hated having to suffer in the same way as Elsa, forcing her sister to see what she'd been through over all those years. Anna took a deep breath, struggling to rise, her legs weak and unsteady beneath her. She could see Elsa's silent plea, the desire to help that left such a plaintive look in her eyes. But Anna couldn't accept the hand she was offered; not yet. First she had to stand. Simple tasks. Round two.

Out of the bath. The mat's soaking wet now. Put this robe somewhere it won't make too much mess, Elsa will appreciate that. Okay, cupboard. Careful, the floor's a little slippery because you're still dripping. Right. Robe. Arm. On. Warm. Nice. Elsa… Elsa is nice. Elsa is here. Elsa stays. Elsa… strong for me. Anna sank down against the cupboard, her strength deserting her. The floor was hard—but something pushed up next to her, on her left. Something moving quite awkwardly. Something soft and warm and loving and tender and sisterly and Anna wanted so badly to reach out and tell this thing that everything was alright, everything would be alright. But it wasn't. She wasn't. She was afraid of hurting Elsa, not by touching her, but with her trying to reach out and having to shy away yet again.

Anna closed her eyes, letting the tears flow freely before they ran dry. There was a way. Maybe. A shared language. Something that made both of them so very uncomfortable for very different reasons. Keeping her eyes screwed shut, Anna reached out to take hold of her sister's right hand, on the floor beside her. She could feel Elsa's start, the sudden urge to pull away, how hard her sister had to fight that urge. Anna gently lifted that hand somewhere in front of her face—her eyes were still closed. With her thumb she gently folded Elsa's ring and pinky finger into her palm. Then it was time to start fighting back. Bit by bit.

She pulled Elsa's fingers to her lips, to that painful little split. Softly, tenderly, Anna kissed those fingers. Her eyes remained closed. It was the only way she could think of to make this work—at all. She let Elsa's hand fall, waiting for her to ask.

"Y–you want me to k–kiss you?" Elsa's nervous apprehension was adorable, but Anna shook her head. No. She needed her sister to figure this out. She took that hand once more. Guided it specifically to her lower lip, and gently pressed those fingers against the tender scar there.

"I–I… you want—you want me… to… kiss it better?" to Anna it was almost painful to hear her sister talk so haltingly, to sound so unsure of herself. But she'd grasped what Anna wanted, and it had taken only two tries. The young redhead nodded slowly, deliberately, to make sure she wasn't misunderstood. Her eyes were still closed. She didn't trust herself to open them. Not right now. She could hear Elsa shuffling around awkwardly beside her. She lowered her knees so Elsa could lean over her if need be.

It was then that Anna felt the warmth her sister always radiated. Other people might think Elsa was cold—and maybe she was cold to the touch sometimes—but to Anna, in that moment, it was the warmest feeling in the world, knowing her sister now rested between her and everything else. She could feel Elsa's breath tickling her lips and chin. Even with her eyes still closed, she could feel how Elsa hesitated, held back, unsure of what all this meant—or if it meant anything at all. The tears had dried some time ago, but when Anna felt her sister's lips brush against hers—to press against that tiny scar with just the right amount of pressure, to feel just a little moist, a little warmer—it was enough to set free new tears. Tears of simple joy and understanding—or better; of being understood.

"All better now?" Elsa asked, and in that moment Anna was forced to open her eyes. It was so tender, so truthful. The look in her sister's eyes… Anna knew then, without a doubt, that if she ever let it happen, Elsa would be the most loving parent in the world. Because that was how Anna felt now, somehow safer; loved, as if she was eight years old and caught up in her mother's arms. The former Queen had always tried to make time for Anna, to show her she wasn't so alone inside the castle. To reassure her that she and Elsa were still sisters, and maybe one day soon they could play together in the winter snow.

Anna had nearly forgotten her sister asked a question—maybe it had been rhetorical, but Elsa deserved an answer anyway, so Anna nodded quickly, brushing away her tears. She motioned to Elsa's chair, then to the bedroom door. She knew she must have looked terrible, but she made a mime of falling over. Her sister understood, speaking for both of them.

"I guess it is getting kind of late; we should probably get some sleep," Anna nodded in agreement, slowly pushing herself from the ground. She wanted to help Elsa back into her chair, but she knew she wasn't ready for that level of touch yet. She wondered when she would be.

Ten minutes later they were both in Anna's bed, the Anna ice-statue still gracing the foot of the bed, and Anna placed the last of the bolsters to make a little wall between them. She smiled sadly at her sister; Elsa gave her an understanding smile in return. But it was still sad. Anna patted the bolster between them like it was a friendly pet.

"I understand," Elsa replied to the words that couldn't be said. Anna turned away, fresh tears in her eyes, and buried her face in the pillow. How badly she wanted Elsa to reach out over that barrier, to ignore everything they'd just figured out together. She longed to feel a hand against her back, an arm around her shoulders. She knew she wouldn't. Not because Elsa didn't want to, or wasn't able to—but because Elsa wouldn't, Anna knew her sister respected her too much to try and push these boundaries. She hated it more than ever now. Hated herself for feeling like this. Hated those men in the fort. But she knew hate was a hollow emotion, useless to her—but it also seemed like all she had left to hold on to, because the one person she wanted to hold on to, she couldn't. Not anymore. Not if it was going to cause the both of them so much pain.

"I hope your light's didn't just go out the second you hit that pillow," Anna heard her sister whispering from the far side of the bolsters. "Or maybe I do, because it hurts so much to not hear your voice. I… I want to just wrap you up in one giant hug, protect you from the world for the rest of your life"—Elsa sighed heavily before pressing on, a slight hitch in her voice—"I know that's what papa did; what mom tried to do. They had the best intentions for us, and look at us—now I want to help, and I'm afraid of making things worse. I really am—I'm afraid I'll go too far, and you'll run away, and I'll never find you; because you were always better at hide and seek."

Was that… was that a joke? It took Anna several long seconds to mentally process everything she'd just heard. Elsa had just told a joke. She'd taken a great risk. It had been at her expense too, and Anna felt some colour rising in her cheeks. She still couldn't say anything, but she could make her mild displeasure known well enough. Half turning in the moonlit darkness, Anna hefted the bolster above her shoulder and gave her sister a solid thump with the thing. It felt good.

"Mmph, fine," Elsa spat out a mouthful of dusty pillow. "Be like that." But there was no venom in her words. Anna lay back down, placing the bolster between them again. She hit the pillow with a heavy sigh, but she managed a smile before the sweet caress of night reached out to calm her fevered mind.


	41. The Hardest Words

Elsa woke with a start, surprised she had made it uninterrupted through the night. She was somewhat less surprised to find herself hugging something soft and warm—until she realized that doing that, that maintaining that level of contact, would be bringing back all sorts of terrible memories for the intended recipient of the hug. She opened her eyes and felt both relief and disappointment to find out she was hugging one of the bolsters Anna had placed between them the night before. Anna was still sleeping soundly, her back to Elsa.

A gentle knock at the door caused the platinum blonde Queen of Arendelle to scramble forwards, placing the bolster between herself and her sister once more. There were four people that would dare knock on that door. Kristoff was likely to still be asleep—but wouldn't be for as long as Anna usually was. It would be very strange to see the ice harvester out there. It could have been Hank, but to the best of Elsa's knowledge he was still recovering in the local infirmary—she thought of paying him a visit during the day, but wasn't sure if she would be able to let herself leave Anna's side. The two most likely to be at the door however were the castle's longest serving and most trusted servants. Gerda and Kai.

"Your majesty?" Kai spoke softly, clearing his throat for attention.

"I'm awake, Kai. Anna is still resting; there has been a…" Elsa wasn't sure how much she should tell him. Or how much she could bear to place on his shoulders as well. The truth was as much a curse as it was a blessing sometimes. Some truth, but not the revelation—not unless Anna gave her permission to tell anyone first. "…a development of a most grievous nature. I do not think it would be wise to leave my sister's side right now."

"She was not so injured?" the voice on the other side of the door dared to ask.

"Wounded in spirit," Elsa supplied, unwilling to voice any more.

"Not so wounded as you were, before your parents' death?"

What was he… oh. Yes; not something she liked reliving, but an experience they had indeed shared that fateful night. Now he thought Anna might…? Kai was normally a much better judge of character than that—or did he know something about these tortures that she did not. Or perhaps he asked not because he was concerned, but because Gerda was? Elsa could always remember Anna having a better rapport with the maid than she herself ever had. Kai and Gerda looked out for each other; perhaps this was a professional courtesy—even if it felt quite intrusive. No, she chided herself, he wasn't prying, he merely wished to assure the staff that Anna would be okay in the days to come.

"N–no," Elsa finally stammered out. "B–but it's bad. Very bad. I—I can't tell you, okay?"

She heard Kai's gasp first, then a quiet assent. "There is nothing you need say, Queen Elsa. Do you wish me to postpone the council meeting?"

"That was today?" Elsa could have slapped herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course it was today. The last proper meeting had been a week ago. Normally she kept such exacting time she would be the one reminding other people of their duties—but now she had other, rather more pressing concerns. But she could not honestly shirk her responsibilities so brazenly, even when it would be completely justified to do so. She was already damned for actions in saving Anna over saving Arendelle, she was quite sure. She had to make amends for those actions somehow. Even if those actions were likely to be repeated if her sister was placed in such danger again.

But how could she conduct a council meeting without leaving Anna's side? That was the real question, and it left her thinking long enough for Kai to knock gently against the door once again.

"I'm thinking, Kai—I wish to attend the meeting as normal, but I cannot think how to do so without leaving Anna's side."

"Perhaps you should invite her in?"

Elsa sighed. She would love to, but it would reveal to everyone just how damaged her sister was now. She hated thinking like that around Anna, like her sister was something less for the experiences, like some mean object she was bent, or broken, or missing pieces. People were more complex than that—more complex by far, and while Elsa might have had a hard time with some people, she knew her sister. Perhaps she would simply ask Anna, force herself to actually ask her sister about her pain, and how she wanted to deal with it. She nodded slowly, then remembered Kai was still outside the room.

"It is an option. Not a certain one, but I shall broach the topic with her when she awakens."

"Your majesty, would you prefer your breakfast be brought to you this morning?"

"I–" Elsa paused. She normally came down to the dining hall to eat breakfast alone. She didn't like imposing upon the servants; she wasn't worth that kind of trouble. But this wouldn't be for her, it would be for Anna. And for Anna, she would gladly suffer any imposition; less so if that was placed upon another's shoulders, but so be it. She nodded again. "Yes, Kai, I would like my breakfast brought to me, and… prepare a meal for Anna as well, something that will keep if she does not wake until her usual hour."

A new thought struck Elsa. She was surprised she hadn't considered it before, given how happy that thing made the both of them. It had, of course, brought them many moments of happiness in the past, both when they were together, and even when they were alone. Simple, dark, and delicious—and so many varieties.

"Kai?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"When you collect our breakfast, bring chocolate. Lots of chocolate."

"A–are you sure?" Elsa could almost see the horrified look on her trusted servant's face. That same request had been made exactly once in the past. She had been seven, and Anna four—just about done fighting off a severe cold caused by diving through the winter snow outside the castle. By mid-morning Anna had made the rounds of the castle. Twice. She'd had a go at wrecking the place too, Elsa remembered with a strange sense of pride. By noon the servants had been terrified into submission, and somehow the Queen had failed to apprehend her. It was over by the early afternoon, with Anna literally crashing into one of the couches in the portrait room, falling asleep before she hit the floor.

It took two weeks to restore order inside the castle. The damage was fixed within two days, but terrified servants took a little longer to reassure. Chocolate had very nearly been banned, which had only made it more desirable to the sisters. Their mother taught them the value of moderation—or at least she had tried to. Their father had shown them discipline, much to their discomfort and displeasure. Both sisters still shared a particular weakness for chocolate. Finally removed from her reverie, aware of the nature of the things they would have to attempt to somehow discuss, Elsa made her reply.

"Yes, I'm sure. Enough chocolate for both of us."

"Yes, your majesty," Elsa imagined him giving the door a slight bow, then heard his footsteps softly receding down the corridor. Now she had time she had to figure out what she was going to do to run the kingdom. How much she could safely delegate to the council while she cared for her sister—she would trust no one else. Not this time. Not even Hank or Kristoff. Elsa's heart broke at the thought of that name; not knowing how either he or Anna would reconcile this… this… tragedy, that had now befallen them.

* * *

Slowly drifting back to consciousness, Princess Anna was immensely happy to find the sun sitting high in the morning sky. There was a smell lingering in her room; a scent both familiar and alien—of something once remembered but never forgotten. Or rather often remembered, actually, now she managed to place it. Chocolate. She gave the air a cautious sniff. Definitely chocolate, and a lot of it. What else? She remembered something about hide and seek, and crying in her sleep and being naked and alone in the rain and nearly drowning and everything was so big, so scary, she'd seen Elsa—no. That hadn't been real. There was no way it could be real.

She finally saw Elsa then. Her sister was wearing a simple shift—it was so incongruous it gave even Anna pause. Her sister should have been fully dressed, had her hair braided, and be somewhere else in the castle by now, and yet, here she was. She hadn't even bothered tying her hair back, although she had apparently brushed it, and Anna felt a pang of envy at that—she liked brushing Elsa's platinum tresses. She also saw where Elsa was sitting, how she was holding herself.

Her legs carefully crossed, a little backrest of ice behind her, she looked almost painfully formal in her posture. In her left hand, now outstretched, she held a single, large chocolate. Anna made to speak, to thank her sister for the offering, but there was still no sound. She couldn't comprehend why things were still this way. She'd had a good night's sleep, and that was supposed to banish any problem. She bit back tears as Elsa smiled tentatively, placing a finger to her lips to indicate silence. Then she offered Anna the chocolate once more.

It was a rich, creamy chocolate mousse, with a touch of berries tailing it. It tasted amazing, and Anna savoured every delicious bite. Then she saw the plates, piled high with chocolates of every variety. She figured Elsa must have stolen one of everything from the larder—and why shouldn't she, she was the Queen. But that meant Elsa would have left her side, at least for a short while, before returning with their prize. She couldn't repress the little shiver she felt when she realized Elsa had left her alone; alone and vulnerable. She wanted to ask her sister why, but she couldn't. Not being able to talk was driving her to distraction.

Okay, so what would Flynn Rider do, if he couldn't talk? Right. He would act something out, draw a map, a plan. Write a note—that was it, writing. If she couldn't talk maybe she could still write—even if her penmanship was atrocious. She was out of bed so fast she almost bowled Elsa over, scrambling around the room trying to find something to write on—old diary should do fine, wait, that was the new one, and it had certain… stories in it. Anna hurriedly returned that particular volume to a less conspicuous location. Okay, this one was older, a few years now. Right, right, paper… so, ink? No, a pen. Somewhere; on the floor probably. The red haired princess rummaged through several piles of clothing before recalling the last time she had written in anything—she'd been _on_ the bed, so… she didn't so much look under the bed as dive under it, retrieving the pen with a silent shout of triumph.

Brandishing her writing implements, pen held awkwardly between her fingers and the book in that same hand, she sat down next to Elsa and smiled expectantly at her sister. Elsa returned the smile, looking rather confused. Anna couldn't yet elaborate, so she opened the book to a blank page and started scratching against the paper. She stopped, disappointed, when she saw all she'd done was in fact scratch at the paper. There was no ink in the pen. Elsa's hand seemed to pass dangerously close to her chest, and Anna drew away, forcing a gasp from her sister. Anna hung her head; why did she have to be so afraid—even of her own sister?

But Elsa's hand was already gone, drawn back outside of Anna's own little world. The only sound in the room was calm, gentle breathing. Anna looked up, finding her sister with her left hand outstretched, palm upwards, and staring at the pen. Oh, that was all she'd wanted? The young princess found herself cursing her own timidity, and once again hating those men in the fort. They had done this to her, and she was having a very hard time undoing it. Or maybe she needed a plan to undo it, a real, proper plan, not just her normal level of endearing insanity.

She gave Elsa the pen, not quite sure what would happen next. Elsa touched her right index finger to the nib, and something there flashed silvery-blue as the metal frosted over. The pen was left on an open palm, and Anna retrieved it gratefully, but when she placed it once more against the page, she couldn't write anything. It was like knowing that if she tried to communicate like this something inside her was going to burst or break—but she desperately needed it to. There had to be something. Anything. Maybe if she couldn't _see_ what she was doing?

Her eyes closed, Anna scribbled experimentally with the pen. So far, so good. She didn't want to try anything too complex. Writing blind was probably not a skill anyone had developed, ever. Not even Elsa. So it had to be something simple. Straight lines. No curves. No cursive—even when she could see her cursive script had been less than stellar. To attempt that now would just be insane. So that left her with two simple letters. She had to start somewhere, right? Even with her eyes shut, screwing up her courage, it still took more than a minute to write—crudely—both of those letters.

_HI_

The word stared out of the page at her, written with frost, not ink. It shone like silver, but was at no risk of melting. Shaky trails and feathery spikes surrounded the letters. Anna took a deep breath—if she didn't do this _right now_ she might never have this much courage ever again. So she shoved the pen into the middle of the book, closed it, and handed it quickly to her sister. Her eyes were closed again as she heard Elsa's gasp. She knew there would be tears in her sister's eyes—after so many years of talking, after so much progress, after breaking down so many walls, they were reduced to _this_.

Elsa cleared her throat softly, and Anna opened her eyes, taking note of the book between them, how lightly Elsa was holding it. This was the moment of truth. It was time to see if they really could communicate like this. The words within filled Anna's heart with pride and longing, and such a desire to simply speak that she nearly broke once more. It was a question, but it told her so very much about how Elsa thought of her. How Elsa would never see her as less because of what she'd been through; because of what she did now.

_How are you so brave?_

It took all of her courage to write a halting, uneven word in response to that neatly penned question. But it was the only answer that was true, and she looked at that reason as she opened the old diary and was rendered speechless by that selfsame knowledge.

_You_

A single tear made its way down Elsa's cheek as she made her reply, and Anna almost eagerly grabbed the book, not waiting for Elsa to reach out between them. Sometimes she had to take the initiative. Sometimes she had to be the brave one—even now. And as she read the reply, she knew Elsa was braver than she'd been given credit for.

_Would you like a hug?_

Elsa must have already known the likely answer, but with how slowly and deliberately she was being forced to write, Anna couldn't think of a way to soften the blow. Except to give her sister the warmest, saddest, most understanding smile she could mange, as she opened the diary to read the reply.

_No_

Elsa placed the open diary against the floor, pages pressing against the carpet. Then she placed the pen on Anna's side of the little book, and sat a little straighter. She shuffled back using her hands, eyes taking in all of her sister at once, especially that smile. Especially the look of pain, sorrow, and confusion in her eyes. Then she broke the covenant they'd silently made when the writing started.

"I–I'm not sure I can do this Anna. I know saying this is probably going to hurt you—and that's the last thing I ever wanted—but being strong for you is _hard_. So hard. I'll keep trying, but I don't want to hurt you by doing the wrong thing, or saying the wrong thing, or forcing you to do something, or… or…" she shook her head sadly, trying in vain to hid her tears. "I still hate myself sometimes—I don't think I ever stopped. If I'd gone after you right after Kristoff told me what happened; if I hadn't been so consumed with my grief… Anna… why did you have to have me as a pathetic excuse for a sister. Why couldn't you have gotten someone you actually deserved? Someone better than me?"

Elsa continued to speak, but Anna had stopped paying attention—she could handle this later, but right now she had to make Elsa strong again. Very strong. Because the both of them weren't allowed to be broken at the same time. It just wouldn't work. She managed to get out more than a handful of words this time, aware that Elsa's mind was not on watching on her, aware that no one could judge her in this moment. And because of that momentary lack of discretion, she threw the diary at her sister's head.

It worked. It left a bit of a mark, but it worked at breaking Elsa out of her downward spiral. Anna didn't even care about the ice splintering out around her sister, or the snow falling on the bed. That was just Elsa, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She waited patiently as Elsa read what she'd written.

_Stinker. My turn soon?_

Elsa laughed, wiping away her tears. Laughter died on her lips as she read the next few lines. It was a rough, jagged kind of shorthand, but Anna hoped she would understand it.

_Deserve you. Best sister. Best friend._

_Don't want other sister. Want you._

_Always. Forever. Elsa. Strong. Stay._

That last word was what did it. So many times Elsa had tried to run away, and now Anna was going to make her confront her fears. They could do it together, Anna had no problems with that. What she had a problem with was her sister constantly considering herself less of a person for her failings. Recent progress had been incredibly promising—she recalled Elsa had wanted to talk to her about something before they'd been separated. Maybe that was the key. Anna gestured desperately for the book; she needed to write this down while she still could.

Elsa numbly handed the diary over, her fingers brushing against Anna's as the redhead took the book. She jumped at the brief, unexpected contact. Taking the diary in hand, Anna forced herself to write carefully, concisely, so that Elsa would understand that this was not prying, merely a question that did not, in fact, have to be answered.

_Before Kidnapped. Asked to talk._

_About_

Anna paused, not sure if she should say—write—the word, or merely allude to it. She decided honesty was best, less confusing that way.

_suicide? Nightmare?_

_Talk. No Talk. Both okay_.

Averting her gaze, the red haired princess returned the diary to her sister, trying to not quite touch Elsa's fingers this time. It worked, Elsa took the diary without any skin on skin contact, and Anna breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She wanted that contact—longed for it—but she knew her mind was reacting to it the wrong way, so she wouldn't risk it. Not yet. For now it would only be words that passed between them. Words, the diary, and an enchanted pen.

And chocolate. Anna made sure to take one from Elsa's plate—they always tasted better for some reason; just that little bit sweeter. If Elsa wanted to talk about it, they were both going to need most of the chocolate in the castle, let alone in the room. Anna's eyes flicked up when she heard a soft sigh. Elsa had just closed her eyes against seeing something, feeling something. When she spoke it was barely above a whisper.

"I know I have to talk about it, Anna… just, not now. I know it's going to hurt you, and I told you, I want to _stop_ hurting you. We can talk later, but that was my problem. This"—Elsa gestured between them, at the diary, and around the room in general—"this is your problem. _Our_ problem. It's more important than my problem, because to me, you're the most important thing in the world. You are. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. I as much as told Gerhardt that I'd let Arendelle burn to the ground if it meant I got one more day with you—that's how much you mean to me… and it's just one more reason why I shouldn't be Queen. Because I should put my kingdom first, not my sister; but I can't. I just can't.

"Without Arendelle, I could keep going if I had you. Without you…" Elsa didn't finish. She didn't have to. Anna knew all too well where that line of though led her sister. It was a dark and dangerous place to be. Which was why she had to have that book back. Again. This time it took nearly an hour of struggle, but she got the right words covering two whole pages—with lots of scribbled corrections. When she returned the book to her sister, Anna thumped against the floor for attention, pitching her hand up in an imitation of scales. She wanted Elsa to sing this piece, seeing as she herself couldn't. Plus, when Elsa sang it sounded magical.

"Always in a rush," Elsa spoke, and Anna shook her head violently. No. Not this way. The younger of the sisters smiled, mouthing the words while moving her hand up in short, sharp steps.

"You want me to sing?" Anna nodded vigorously at her sister. Elsa looked down at the words written in that little book. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and sang.

Always in a rush  
Never left you alone  
Not long enough  
Why was I so self important?

Said I'd see you soon  
But that was, oh,  
Maybe three days ago  
Didn't know time  
Was of the essence

So many questions  
But I'm not talking anymore  
I know that you still hear me  
Forevermore. More than anyone

So much to ask you  
And most of all is why?  
But I know that you still hear me  
Forevermore

It's so loud inside my head  
With words that I  
Should have said  
And as I drown in my regret  
I can't take back  
The words I never said

Always faking it  
Took your advice  
And did the opposite  
Just being young and stupid

Think  
You haven't been all that I  
Could have hoped for  
But if you hang on  
A little longer  
I'll have more reasons  
To be proud

I  
Ask so many questions  
But I'm not talking anymore  
I know that you still hear me  
Forevermore. My everyone.

If you went away  
If you had to die?  
But I know that you won't hear me  
Anymore

But  
The longer I stay here  
The louder the silence  
I'd know that you were gone  
But sometimes I'd swear  
That I'll be the one to hear  
Your voice when the wind blows  
So I'll talk to to the shadows  
Hoping you might be there to listen  
'Cause I'd want you to know

It's so loud inside my head  
With words that I  
Should have said  
And as I drowned in my regret  
I couldn't take back  
The words I never said

Elsa finished the final line in tears, not seeing the little arrow Anna had sketched to take them to the next page. After a moment of sniffling she saw that it wasn't a letter, but a symbol. Anna waited patiently for the reaction to her final words. Words she'd always had to say before any of this could be right. Words she hadn't known would be so important for her to share. Words that meant she accepted what had happened as real—and knew finally the true toll it had taken on her sister. Words that gave the both of them an overwhelming desire to hug each other until everything was better. But neither of them acted on that desire, no matter how fiercely Anna felt it, no matter how much she could see her sister wanted to. But with those words she did, slowly, carefully, take just her sister's hand, rebuilding the shattered bridge between their hearts.

The diary lay between them, their hands clasped gently over it. The pen was discarded nearby. Glittering, silvery ink that laced frost across the entire page shone against the parchment, revealing the words for both sisters to see.

_I'm sorry._


	42. Courage & Perserverance

Elsa was dressed, wearing a more conservative version of her favourite ice dress. On the other side of the room Anna was finishing struggling her way into a simple green dress. Elsa knew it was her sister's favourite colour, and the lack of rosemaling or embroidered designs did nothing to take away from the drape of the dress. It was not as daring as some of the things Anna had worn recently, but it did leave her arms exposed—her left anyway, and what remained of her right arm, the scars from the operation healing well, despite all the abuse. Elsa could just see the fine thread of the stitches along the larger scars. They would have to be removed for the healing process to be complete—which meant they would have to seek out doctor Arnesen again.

That was another person that might learn of Anna's current problem. Another person Elsa did not want to bring into their circle of trust. This was their problem, and they would solve it themselves—or more likely Anna would, with her crazy plans and unflinching courage. And now Elsa was going to call on her sister to have even more courage, to be strong, when she had no right to make that demand of her. She had no right—but her kingdom did. As much as she loved Anna, she knew there had to be time to address the issues of rulership and the problems befalling the kingdom. There had to be times when Arendelle came first, not Anna, no matter how much it hurt.

"Anna?" the Queen addressed her sister in her formal voice. The redheaded princess gave a slight nod. "There is a council meeting today. After lunch. I need to know if you will be alright if I attend the meeting. I–I want to spend more time with you, help you; but… Arendelle needs me, needs its Queen. I hope you know how much I hate putting you second to anything, but I have to show the council I still care about my kingdom. I wouldn't be much of a queen if I didn't.

"Kai suggested asking if you would like to attend the meeting—if you weren't comfortable being alone, that is—and I'm keeping my word to him and asking you now. You don't have to say yes, or no, or anything. The offer is there, it's your choice—if you want, I can postpone the meeting until later, perhaps even for a few days, but there will need to be a meeting soon."

Anna tried to speak, waving her hand and nodding before realizing she still couldn't talk. But this time there were no tears, just a look of resigned frustration. Elsa smiled at that, then frowned, not quite understanding what had changed. Her sister picked up the diary from the floor, and scribbled something on a fresh page.

 _I understand. Love Arendelle too._  
Will be brave for you. Will try.  
Don't want to be alone.  
Find Kristoff?

Elsa studied the words carefully before replying. "I hate you sometimes, always so brave and optimistic. Or maybe I'm jealous? After all they did to you, you're still… you. Did I just say that, Anna? I'm sorry, I'm trying to do the right thing, but its hard with everyone making demands on me—and oh, god, the fleet… Wesealtown's fleet is still in the fjord. What am I supposed to do about that; I froze the fjord and… and… no. Those are _my_ problems. I should not be burdening you with these things. I should be asking you… asking… is it okay for Kristoff to know?"

Anna nodded brightly, then a shadow crossed her face and she shook her head slowly before resolve shone in her eyes and she gave a final nod.

"So you're not sure then. That's perfectly fine, Anna. What if–what if we both go there, and if you can't think of what to do, or if you get scared, just—squeeze my hand, and we can walk away?"

Anna frowned for a moment, thinking. Elsa couldn't help but think of how adorable her sister looked in that moment. The moment passed, and the red haired princess gave a small nod. It was decided, now they actually had to go and do it. Elsa wondered if she could be so brave if the situation had been reversed—or if she would have closed herself off completely. But then Anna would have been fine, constantly working away at the ice encasing her heart. She knew, no matter what, that their bond as sisters, as friends, as… whatever they were, would see them through anything. All they had to do was be there. It was enough.

The lull between them gave Elsa time to think about the last thing Anna had 'said' before they got dressed. _I'm sorry_. She was confused about why Anna should be apologizing—it had felt right, but in many ways it felt wrong. She was the one who should apologize—for everything she'd put her younger sister through. Everything was wrong, and yet she knew how earnest those words had been. She tried taking a step back, tried seeing things how Anna might see them.

And then she realized the truth of it. She'd managed to shatter her sister's illusion of her strength. Elsa let out a surprised gasp at the revelation, a hand covering her mouth. Anna wasn't just apologizing for the past. She was apologizing for misjudging Elsa. Because Anna had always seen her sister as a bastion of strength, a lonely keep on a windswept mountain, solid, dependable, unbreakable despite any evidence to the contrary. But now, Elsa saw, her sister had come to understand that she simply wasn't that strong—that she could never be as strong as Anna was. And now Anna was accepting that, and instead of hating her for being weak, or being disappointed in her for lacking strength, she was apologizing for asking too much of her.

"Do you even know how amazing you are?" Elsa asked softly after a lengthy silence.

Anna nodded, smiling.

"I'm not sure you do," Elsa replied warmly, handing the diary back to her sister. "Even when you're breaking down, trying to rebuild yourself, being brave enough to just… reach out. I don't understand you sometimes—okay, a lot of times, enough with the face—and I know you said I'm the reason you're so brave, but I still don't know why. Not really. I know you're not scared of me—except when I'm really angry. I—what _am_ I trying to say?"

The book was returned to the Queen of Arendelle, along with a mock-stern look.

 _Never gave up. Always for me. Always._  
Not enough Elsa left. Show you courage.  
Loved each other. Hidden hurt. Not hurting each other.  
Still hurt us. Had to be brave.  
Didn't want you to see. Now you see.

"I–I'm not sure I do see Anna. I don't want to make this harder for you, but… what is it you didn't want me to see?" Elsa handed the little book back so her sister could make a reply.

 _Me. Hurt. Afraid it hurt you._  
Had to be brave. Hide pain from you.  
Didn't see it hurt you worse. You understood.  
No more hiding. We hurt. We show it. We help.  


_We're sisters. Also you're a dummy._

Elsa returned the book with a tiny laugh, inside she felt numb. It all came down to this; to being open with one another. Not being afraid of hurting each other. Trusting that they were strong enough to bear each other's pain. Trusting that being together would be enough. And if Anna was prepared to tell a joke at a time like this…

"You're right, we're sisters. But your penmanship is still atrocious."

Anna frowned at her. It still looked adorable.

* * *

"Hey buddy, yeah, I know… but what's the magic word?"

" _Please_." Kristoff did the Sven voice as he retrieved a carrot from his pocket. The reindeer took half, and the ice harvester petted around the bony nubs where his best friend had had antlers until two nights ago. It happened every year, but it still took a little getting used to, seeing Sven without antlers for the first time. Chewing on the other half the carrot, Kristoff wondered how Anna would find this development—she hadn't commented on it at all when they made the ride to the castle. He also wondered if Anna was actually okay; how she was coping after what those men had done to her. He wanted to help—and this time he really could. All he need to do to start with was to see her.

"You need a good stretch, don't you?"

" _You could use some exercise too._ "

"Hey!" Kristoff stared at his friend, then patted his belly and laughed. "It's all muscle. And the good food they gave us the other week."

Sven nuzzled his shoulder, and Kristoff winced as the reindeer's snout pressed against his arm—his right arm, where the crossbow bolt had gone though it. He shrugged it off, starting to jog around the courtyard, noting small patches of it remained covered in ice. Sven trotted behind him at a steady pace, easily keeping up. Normally they'd warm up with a few laps around wherever they'd slept, but today Kristoff felt the need for a proper run—not to get away from anything, just to get moving. He had a strong feeling it was going to be a rough day, and not just for him. He also needed to make sure the cut on his leg could stand up to the impact of running—not that he really had any doubts in that regard.

He heard someone—something—screaming, and suddenly he was holding Olaf's head, the snowman looking very surprised. "I don't get it. I just asked Elsa one question."

On the far side of the courtyard he could hear the Queen and her sister. Mostly the Queen. Only the Queen, in fact. Anna didn't seem to be talking at all.

"It was rude for him to even say that Anna, but you didn't have to launch his head at your boyfriend."

From the pose the young princess assumed, Kristoff could tell exactly what look Elsa was on the receiving end of. Abusing Olaf like that wasn't really funny, but Kristoff could only smile when he recalled the first time they'd met the chatty little snowman. It had gone almost exactly the same way.

"You should see what princess feistypants did the _first_ time she met Olaf."

"That was before I had a nose!" Olaf added helpfully, then tried to direct his body towards Kristoff with limited success. "You know what, just throw my head over there. It'll be faster."

Having just launched Olaf's head at his body—bowling it over and breaking it apart—Kristoff expected to hear something about it not being nice to throw people. But he heard nothing as the sisters of Arendelle approached, the older of the two laughing softly at Olaf pulling himself together. Princess Anna didn't seem to be making any sounds at all. Even her breathing was quiet. Her hand held a small book, and a pen. She turned to Kristoff, and he turned to face her more fully, wanting to hear what she had to say.

"I—" that was as far as she got. Elsa looked up at her, clearly surprised. She looked rather less surprised—more grimly determined—when Anna desperately took her hand, dropping the book and the pen. Kristoff knelt to retrieve the items, missing the look of terror in Anna's eyes as he moved closer. He didn't miss the way she stepped back. He stood, apologetic, holding out the book and the pen.

"Whoa, whoa. I didn't mean anything like that. Really."

Anna looked down at her sister, who gazed back evenly, waiting for something. Anna shook her head sharply; she still hadn't let go of Elsa's hand. The Queen turned back to Kristoff, but her tone was surprisingly soft.

"I can't tell you what's wrong—it's Anna's choice. But I can at least tell you it's not your fault. I hope you don't hold this against her—against us."

"Why would I—" but the royal sisters had already turned to leave, not bothering to take the book they'd left. Or the pen. He was tempted to open it—maybe he was even supposed to—but he wasn't about to breach anyone's trust. Not like that. He ran after them, catching up in seconds. He stopped in front of Elsa, giving Anna space while trying to make it look like he wasn't shying away from her.

"You forgot this," he spoke quietly, placing the book and the pen in Elsa's free hand. "I know it's not my place to ask, but is Anna going to be okay?"

"I—" Anna tried to answer again, but that was still all she could get out. Kristoff couldn't quite make sense of what was happening. He avoided meeting Anna's eyes, afraid of what he might see there—even if it might give him some clue how to help. He failed miserably, staring into her blue-green eyes when he saw a little smile pull at the corner of her mouth. Most of what he saw in her eyes was frustration, mixed with sadness, and a little fear. But there was determination in there too, the same kind of fiery determination that had seen the two of them ascend the North Mountain together that day.

"Yes. Eventually," Elsa replied for her sister, reminding Kristoff he'd asked a question. The sisters headed towards the castle again, leaving Kristoff in the courtyard, wondering just what had happened. He wished Elsa had elaborated more, but if Anna didn't want to share, Elsa wouldn't do so by proxy either. This left Kristoff confused and more than a little angry. Sven butted him in the small of the back and he took a half step forward to maintain his balance.

" _Something bad happened._ "

"That's an Understatement."

" _Then help her._ "

"She doesn't want me to."

" _I think she does. She's afraid._ "

Kristoff stood stock still, covering the events of the last few days in his head—especially bringing back a very battered young princess. He still didn't know exactly what was wrong, but he had a good idea what had started it.

"If they weren't already dead, I'd kill them."

Kristoff returned with Sven to the stables. Not much he could do without a sled. Not much he could do for Anna except be there. But be there he would; he could use that time to try and figure out what the problem really was, and how to help her through it. Then he got to thinking about the book. The pen. Why carry a book around with a pen it? Because you intend to write in it. But Anna doesn't normally take notes like that. Elsa wouldn't force her to carry it; so maybe she needs it? Maybe, but why? Anna's writing isn't that great—unless she's trying to remember stuff; but wouldn't she rather _forget_ what happened?

" _You look a little lost._ "

"I just don't get it Sven. I mean, okay, holding back from me is fine—I'm not sure how close we really are. I'd like to be close to her, I just don't know how close she wants to be to me. But why would she hold back from Queen Elsa. She barely said a word—no, she didn't say a single word to her sister."

" _Maybe she can't?_ "

"You mean she can't talk at all?"

" _She looked scared when she tried to talk. Scared and sad._ "

"The way she took Elsa's hand… if I didn't know better buddy, I'd say that was panic." Kristoff patted Sven's chest, sharing another carrot between them. With their little discussion over, he considered how much sense it made. It made _too much_ sense. The ice harvester shivered, patting the reindeer again, feeling helpless. "How do I help her through that?"

* * *

Hank groaned, sitting up slowly. His side still hurt, and a hand went to the bandages wrapped around his stomach. They were tight, but at least the stain on the bandages had not spread. That was a promising sign. He might even be able to resume his duties today—although Queen Elsa was unlikely to need much actual protecting within the castle grounds, he figured she might appreciate his quiet support in other ways. Throwing the blankets off, it took him a few moments to remember that he was in the castle barracks, not the Royal Marine barracks. That explained why the windows were in the wrong place.

Standing, he rubbed a hand against his jaw, feeling stubble. He needed a shave. There was nothing stopping him from doing that right now, in fact, and in the washroom Hank retrieved his razor, shaving soap, and brush, then set to work in front of one of the mirrors. Just like any other day really, barring the fact he was inside the castle. He soon lost himself in the simple actions of shaving, scraping the razor against his skin, lifting hair and lather, and shaking it off in the sink before repeating the process. Soon he was done, and he emptied the sink before splashing his face with some cold water—both to finish waking up and to remove the last traces of lather from his chin and cheeks.

Feeling somewhat fresher, and more ready to face the day, Hank changed from his nightclothes to his old uniform. It fit better than that of the Palace Guards, and helped mark him out as different, and perhaps a little dangerous. Exactly the kind of traits he needed to display as a bodyguard to the Queen. The uniform was also dark, especially the jacket, and its silver buttons created a fine contrast. While different to the Palace Guards' uniform, it was similar enough that he could blend in without too much issue, or fade into the background among the people of Arendelle. Patting the jacket down, Hank finished his morning routine by hanging his sabre from his hip. He was ready to face the day; to resume his duty as the Queen's protector. Now all he had to do was enter the castle and find her.

He was met halfway down the entrance hall by Kai, who ushered him aside. "Lieutenant Eriksson, I would like to take the time to personally thank you for actions two days ago in saving the Queen. I know it may not mean much coming from a servant—even a royal one—but you have my gratitude; and that of Arendelle, I have little doubt. That is not the only reason I have taken you aside this morning. You are a good man, lieutenant Eriksson, but I must ask you to be careful around the Queen and especially the Princess today. I cannot tell you what has happened; but I ask that if either of them request you to leave, or even refuse you entry in the first place, then you respect their wishes and do as they ask forthwith."

Hank took the time to study Kai's rounded face before replying. It was clear that the slightly portly servant was indeed deeply troubled, and that that trouble related to the Queen or the Princess. It was also clear that his words had been meant as a kind of warning—not against him, Hank realized, but against what might happen when he saw Queen Elsa again.

"Thank you, Kai," Hank offered as a start. "If either Queen Elsa or sister ask it of me, I will leave, but I wish to be there to be able to support them in what you are implying is a most troubling time. I understand that in the past—and even of late—that Queen Elsa can have trouble accepting that there are people willing to support her through anything. I would like to regard myself as one of those people, and I hope that in time you might see me in that light also. If the Queen sends me away, I shall inform you, such that at least one of us will be able to support her, should she ask it of us."

"You are a most honourable man, lieutenant Erikson," Kai took the Royal Marine's hand and gave it a firm shake. "I am truly happy to see you proving how worthy you are to the Queen, how loyal you are to Arendelle. May I enquire as to your health—I do recall hearing that you had been shot protecting Queen Elsa?"

Hank patted his right side, just above his waistline. He winced, having patted the wound just a little too hard. "It only hurts when I touch it; or when I laugh. The physician told me it should heal well—nothing vital was struck, so that all it needs is time. In the meantime I should probably avoid bearing witness to Princess Anna's antics—oh… my apologies Kai, I meant only the way she sometimes entertains her sister with her actions. Queen Elsa has related a handful of rather humorous anecdotes to that regard."

"There is no need to apologize, lieutenant Eriksson. I was merely hoping that the princess might resume such antics soon—the castle is too quiet without her chaotic influence sometimes. Do not let _her_ know that, however, for we would never hear the end of it. Especially Gerda."

"On my honour," Hank gave a small bow as Kai stepped back, gesturing for him to proceed up the stairs.

He was on the third floor, where the royal family had always slept. He tried Queen Elsa's door first. There was no answer, but he waited for a full minute, just in case she was busy with something that demanded all of her attention. When there was still no answer, he decided to try Princess Anna's door instead. The sisters often spent time together, so it would make sense. Perhaps especially if Anna had been having nightmares and wanted some support. Hank recalled the times his sister had had bad dreams and climbed into his bed, snuggling under the covers where she felt safe. He couldn't blame the young princess for wanting to feel safe either, especially after being held captive by Weseltonian soldiers for three days.

"Queen Elsa?" Hank knocked quietly on the door.

"Hank?" the query was returned through the still closed door. There was some shuffling around inside, and a hushed conversation, but he managed to make out the words 'shot', 'saved', and 'anything'. After a few minutes the door to the room cracked open, just enough for someone to slip out. It wasn't Elsa. It was a very frightened young princess, fear and determination shining in her eyes. She didn't speak. Didn't say a word. She stepped closer, close enough to touch. Hank didn't move—he recalled Kai's warning earlier. Princess Anna was shivering, afraid, but Hank made no sudden movements. He didn't move at all, not sure what he should do in this situation.

That was when he felt a slender arm wrap around his shoulders—still shaking slightly—and pull him close. Anna's head rested against his chest for a moment—just an instant—and then suddenly the door was closed again, with her behind it. Before he really had time to process everything, Queen Elsa was very quietly asking him to leave. He turned to leave, not having any idea just how much he might have helped a certain young princess.


	43. Repercussions

"Anna?" Elsa was barely whispering to her. She must have seen how much she was shaking as she sat back down. "Are you alright?"

"Nh–" Anna managed to force herself to speak. Almost. She still didn't know why she couldn't talk; she wanted her voice back. Silence was unnatural to her, especially if it was her silence. She saw her sister's face, how her eyes shone with both respect and fear. The young princess slammed her fist against the floor, closing her eyes and shaking her head. She was perhaps the furthest from alright she'd ever been—and that included remembering the surgery where her arm had been removed; where everything had changed. Her heroes had never been through that.

Joan had been persecuted, burned at the stake as a witch. But she hadn't lost an arm saving her sister. Flynn Rider kept getting into trouble, but he could always get out of it too, with a quick word or even quicker actions. But the trouble she was in, the fight she knew she was facing to try and put herself together after those men had tried to break her apart… her heroes had never been through that. She had nothing to guide her through this darkness. And then she was calling herself an idiot, still shivering, because she had a new hero. Someone who had always been strong for her. Someone who had been so strong it had broken them. Someone who loved her so much she was willing to push her aside for thirteen years to protect her—from herself.

There she was, sitting in that icy chair, hands clasped nervously in her lap, hair falling over her shoulder in a complex braid. Anna knew her sister's heart must have been breaking to watch all this, but that only made her stronger. Elsa didn't have to be strong—not all the time. She didn't have to be successful at being a big sister—although that would have been nice. She didn't have to be the amazing Queen everyone knew she was—even though she had been thrust into that role. All she had to do; all she had ever had to do for Anna was to keep trying. That was it. That was enough. Anna had spent the last few weeks personally showing her the value of perseverance. Now—and she hated the circumstances more than anything—she was able to reap the benefits of her efforts in helping to establish her big sister as the wonderful, warm, loving person she always should have been.

Anna took a deep breath, ready to try talking again. It was only the morning after she'd lost her voice, and she wasn't expecting miracles—not this time—but she was going to keep trying. She owed herself that much. She owed Elsa that much too, even though the diary was working for now, she didn't want it to be working forever. She wanted so badly to get past this… this… whatever this was. She just didn't have a word to encompass everything she felt. She released the breath, trying to speak.

"I…" the word hung in the air, and Elsa looked at her with such pride that Anna's heart swelled and broke at the same time. Elsa knew how much of a struggle it was for her, and that look said so much; gave her the courage to try and get another word out. "…Nhh—"

The red haired young princess let out a heavy sigh. A quiet, heavy sigh. Her eyes studied the carpet covering the floor. She wasn't really looking at it, she just didn't want to see the pain she knew she'd caused her sister. Something moved at the edge of her vision, and she saw the pen and her old diary being offered back to her. She looked up just enough to see her sister's face—to see the understanding smile there. She took the book and the pen, and that smiling presence retreated, giving her space, making her feel safer by its absence—and that was the hardest thing to handle out of everything. She was afraid of her own sister, and for no good reason. She hated those men from the fort even more, and she hated herself for hating them, because hate was such an ugly emotion to hold on to. But right now she knew it was probably the only thing she had left. The one thing that had really sustained her through her captivity. There was another thing, of course, but that seemed small and weak compared to the amount of hate she was holding inside her soul.

There was something more—something strange—as she remembered the previous night. How Elsa had reached out to stop her falling into the bath. How Elsa had been trying to save her, and how she herself had been refusing that help. How she had been reliving that moment in the fort where Sten tried to touch her… there. How because of that now the most intimacy she could show anyone was to touch their hand. Except… except lieutenant Eriksson—Hank—her sister's bodyguard. Hank was as much a soldier as any of those men had been. Could probably be as violent and dangerous as them too. And yet… she had, for a moment, managed to touch him. To hug him; to thank him for saving Elsa's life. It had been a short hug, and it had taken all of her courage—and then some—just to be able to stand that close to him.

That she couldn't have said 'thank you' was beside the point. He deserved proper thanks. But what about Elsa… she had to know, right? What had happened on the other side of the door? And if she knew she was taking it remarkably well—so she couldn't have known. Right? Wait, could she be jealous? Anna felt like she'd just run into a brick wall when that thought struck her. It made sense, too, and that made it worse. She'd used all her courage, made her biggest breakthrough of the morning with someone that was _not_ Elsa. She had to apologize. Right now, before she could lose that train of thought.

_I'm sorry. Hugged Hank._

Elsa looked at the writing and gave a sharp little laugh. It wasn't a pleasant sound, and her hand went to her mouth immediately afterwards. Anna saw the raw terror in her eyes, and the way the floor around her chair was slowly icing over. Elsa was afraid she'd just ruined everything. Anna could tell that much from her sister's reaction to that one little laugh. The princess hurriedly took the diary before she had a better idea—even if it scared her more. The book fell with a quiet thud.

She stood in front of Elsa's chair, ignoring the frost covering the carpet. She sank to one knee so she could look her sister in the eyes. Crystal blue meeting oceanic turquoise. She held that gaze, and slowly, deliberately, she took her sister's hand, trembling all the while. Then, still looking her sister in the eye, she smiled as warmly as she could, giving that hand a little squeeze. They were so close it was all she could manage. Her smile fading and her courage gone, Anna stepped back, virtually diving for the bed, landing on top of the duvet.

There was a quiet sniffle from the far side of the room, and Anna knew she'd hurt her sister somehow. Or at least she thought she had, until Elsa started talking in a clear, even voice. It was kind of quiet though, and there was a little snow drifting across the floor now Anna had managed to roll to the side of the bed and open her eyes. She wondered if Elsa would ever have enough control to stop even these minor outbursts—and then she realized she didn't _want_ Elsa to have that much control. Because that would mean Elsa was shutting things out again, and that was no progress at all. Oh, and she was talking, so it would probably have been a good idea to pay attention.

"…a little jealous, maybe. Or, well, disappointed? I think that's the right word for what I felt. I'm not mad at you Anna—honestly, I'm not—I'm just surprised you could take that much of a step with someone who wasn't… well… me. I want to be the one who helps you through this, through all of this—but I guess you have so many friends in your life. Or do you? I mean you should, especially among the servants and the staff, and I want you to know that I understand.

"I might not like that I can't help you with some of these things, but I understand that there are some things you probably can't talk to me about—but that you can talk to other people about. I mean, you'll be able to talk, when you find your voice again. And you will. You already checked under your bed this morning."

And Anna laughed. It was a tiny, choked, almost strangled sound, but it counted. Elsa let out a joyous little laugh in reply, smiling at her sister. Anna smiled right back, dragging herself off the bed, retrieving the pen and the diary from the floor. She sat on the edge of the bed as she wrote.

 _Best sister ever. Make me laugh like that.  
This is my voice __now—_ Anna scribbled over the last word of that line, amending it _—_ _for now._  
Can meet council? Later?

"You're sure about this?" was the first question Elsa asked her sister after handing the little book back to her. "Once the meeting is in session it will be difficult to stop, even with the Queen's prerogative. But if you get scared, if you don't think you can handle it, just take my hand, and I'll call it to a close. Just be aware that going there means they might—they probably will, in fact—ask you questions. As the Royal Princess you would be expected to handle such questions as well as I am able to. This means you either have to have enough courage to try and talk to all of them; or, you let me explain why you can't. Is that fair?"

If she was being honest, Anna hadn't thought about any of those things, only that she didn't want to be a burden on Arendelle right now. Because the kingdom probably needed Elsa as much as she did, and she couldn't go putting her needs above those of the kingdom—even if Elsa could. But, talking to the council; actually _talking_ to them? That was an altogether more terrifying thought. They would be so knowledgeable, so accomplished, just like Elsa, and all she'd managed to retain from her lessons was pretty much table manners and which fork was for salad—and something about things princesses weren't supposed to do in public. She really needed to think things through more.

 _Didn't think about that. Fair._  
Don't really want to anymore.  
Don't want to stop you.  
Arendelle needs you too.

"Anna, I told you I could postpone the meeting if I had to. It's not a huge problem to do that; and I'm more than willing to do that for you. I think if the council can even half-guess at what you're going through right now, they'll cut me more than enough slack."

Anna listened to her sister's words, then wrote in the diary again, handing it over very firmly this time. Arendelle should not have to suffer just because she was—and she wanted to see if she could still be brave. To make sure she still had her courage above all else. To give herself time to find something to direct her unwanted hatred at. Something that wasn't her, or anyone she cared about. But she didn't feel brave without other people around right now. Oh. That was it. As long as Elsa was close enough, she didn't think she'd have to stay in the same room.

 _Meeting yes. Me outside. Being brave.  
Will scream—_Anna crossed out the word and wrote something else _—yell quietly if I get scared._  
Will not break if someone asks questions. Hopefully.

Another thought struck Anna as she was writing, and she put down one last question, hoping it wouldn't immediately break her sister. She was asking for an item, something that had kept her strong but silent all those years. Something that had given her some measure of hope and control. Something that also unfortunately contained some of her darkest memories.

_Can I borrow your gloves?_

Anna watched her sister as she read what was written on the page. She saw all the emotions warring on her sister's face, especially revulsion and fear, moving slowly into resolve, love, and understanding. But that didn't stop her from hugging herself a little as she sat in that icy chair. She eventually held up a hand before asking Anna a simple question.

"Will you be okay here while I get my—your—gloves for you?"

Anna nodded, clenching her fist and putting a determined look on her face. Elsa wasn't going far. It wouldn't be for very long. She would bring back something that helped. The door was closing quietly before Anna had finished those thoughts. The door suddenly changed to rough wood, heavy planks, crossed by iron bands. There was no handle on the inside. It was heavy, immovable. Locked from without. No light filtered through the grate in the door.

The bed she was sitting on was made of stone—it was too soft for stone. It was stone, covered in green moss. But when she scraped at it the moss wouldn't move. The window—there was a window opposite the door, and it was massive. It was also criss-crossed with iron bars so tightly she was surprised it let any light in at all. Then she remembered why she was in here. She was a prisoner; a captive; a _murderer_. She had killed someone, but the details were fuzzy. She deserved her—no, she didn't. It was all wrong. They'd tried to touch her, and then when she hadn't played with them they'd hurt her, then thrown her in here and just left her to rot. That was it. But she was fairly sure she had actually killed one of them. She remembered the dagger… the neck… the body rolling over.

Elsa.

Anna shook her head, trying to drive the vision from her mind. Not real. Not real. It's not real.

"It's not real!"

And then her voice vanished again. She was still in that large tiny cell with its mossy bed and wrong window and door she could never open. But at least her sister's body wasn't on the floor next to her—it was lying in a field somewhere, with the ruins of a sled. A sle—? The thought was interrupted when the massive door swung open with nary a sound. And there, in a very small, very normal kind of doorway, was Elsa, gloves held tightly in her hands and a panicked look on her face. Anna looked around trying to figure out why. Her cell opened into a carpeted hallway, a very familiar hallway. Third floor, castle Arendelle. About fifty feet from her sister's room down the hall.

She blinked, and suddenly reality reasserted itself all around her. She was sitting on her bed. The door was open. Her sister was at her side, and sunlight streamed in through the window. It was so stupidly, disturbingly normal that she started crying. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arm wrapped around them as she rocked gently back and forth.

"It was bad, wasn't it?" Elsa asked softly. Anna could only nod, blinking back more tears. She hated feeling like this. Feeling weak. Feeling like she wasn't in control. Like she wasn't _there_. Her sister was holding out a familiar pair of gloves—Arendelle green. "I–I found the gloves. I hope they help."

There was a problem. Anna hadn't actually thought about how she might put the gloves _on_. She'd just wanted them as a little barrier, a shield, between her and the world. So she could touch, and not be touched. So she could touch her sister without feeling so afraid. Her hand found her forehead, and she watched her sister give her a wry smile. She'd obviously thought of this little wrinkle as well.

"It's alright Anna. I'm not going to touch you. I'll just hold the glove out and you can put your hand in when you're ready. Nothing to it." Then she winked, and Anna knew it was now or never. She felt Elsa's fingers holding the glove open at one one end. She felt the fingers of her sister's other hand as she untangled an errant finger of the glove. She felt two hands softly running up her wrist, towards her elbow, making sure the glove was secure. She shivered, but let it pass. The glove helped.

"So, ready to not meet the council for the first time?" Elsa asked, her tone light. Anna shook her head slowly. "Didn't think so. It's fine. Meetings normally aren't until the afternoon. Oh, and I guess you must have forgotten these." With that last remark Elsa rescued a chocolate that had escaped earlier in the morning, throwing its partner to Anna. Both sisters bit into their chocolate at the same moment, sharing the same smile. Despite everything, they knew they would always share at least one weakness. A very delicious kind of weakness.

* * *

Elsa did a quick headcount when she got into the council chambers. Five people, besides herself. Five… not six. She vaguely recalled Kai attempting to tell her something about this meeting, but couldn't be sure if she'd actually listened past the fact that the meeting had to happen. She looked around the table, taking in the familiar faces. Per Johanssen, now looking a lot healthier. Søren, the guildsman, looking uncharacteristically haggard and drawn. Justicar Kristoffersen, nervously looking through his ledger, then at her, then at Søren—something she was clearly missing then. Vanja Ostberg-Lang, the fur clad council advisor was there, her blonde hair held in a tight bun with what looked like a very fine dagger holding it in place. In fact, it looked almost oriental, and Elsa was briefly fascinated by it before remembering where she was and what she was doing.

The missing man was Larsson, the scribe. That would be her first question. After she had dealt with Gerhardt; once again she wanted to give him a chance to explain himself, to explain his reasons for provoking her when they were on the docks. She owed him that much at least after he had proved himself instrumental in thwarting any further actions her would be assassin might have taken. And perhaps also because he had looked so damn worried after provoking her, going so far as to actually pray about something.

"Marshal Gerhardt?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Explain yourself," Elsa didn't bother mincing words. She wanted candor; honesty, not excuses.

"May I assume you mean my actions upon the docks two days ago?" Elsa nodded, and Gerhardt continued. "In that case, I will not bother with any empty apologies, because when I finish you will see that I would be willing to do exactly the same again, should the situation warrant it. As everyone here knows"—Gerhardt gestured to the council—"there has been discussion of using Queen Elsa's powers to defend Arendelle, despite what the cost to her might have been. We can clearly see how high the cost truly was now, but in my opinion it was necessary—Arendelle's fleet could not have prevailed against the ships Weselton sent against us, not without some form of assistance. That our fleets never met is moot."

Elsa let out a deep breath she hadn't known she was holding. Shaking slightly, she placed her hands against the edge of the table, wincing as frost spread from her fingertips. No one reacted. They all knew by now the opposing views held by the Queen and the Marshal of Arendelle. They also knew that Elsa's control, while better, was not perfect. Elsa tried to rein in her magic, taking a quiet breath as Marshal Gerhardt continued to speak.

"As to why I so insulted the Queen on that day; why I abused her—and I do not use that word lightly, it is exactly what I did, nothing less—why I did that? Once again, I felt that it was necessary. Queen Elsa showed such remarkable control, both recently and since the Great Thaw, in public and in private, that I had not considered the effect it might have had on her powers at the strategic level. That control, that precision; it limits her powers. Limits their usefulness on a grand scale. I am quite sure the harbour initially froze to within an inch of Queen Elsa's desires, but that the control she so remarkably shows—even now"—Gerhardt shivered slightly, lifting his gloved hands from the slowly freezing table—"limits the effectiveness of her powers."

Elsa lifted her own hands, looking at the frost covering the table beneath them. The theory that control limited her powers seemed strange, but it also made a strange kind of sense. When she was truly in control, she could make anything. In her happiest moment, when she had felt truly in control of her life for the first time, she'd made her grandest creation of all. It still stood, she was sure, glittering in the sunlight near the peak of the North Mountain. But Gerhardt was still talking.

"In knowing that; in discovering that effect in the moment, I knew I would have to force her to act _in extremis_. I would have to do something to bring forth the most powerful negative emotions that she was experiencing. That was what caused the Great Freeze in the first place. Having only that information, I acted. It may not have been the best decision, but I made it with the information then available to me. I do not think it the wrong decision for Arendelle's defense. I would make it again, in a heartbeat, no matter the cost to myself. My duty has always been to protect Arendelle, and I will never stray from that path; I will never shy from that duty. It is what is expected of me, and I will do it; no matter the cost."

That did it. Knowing how openly he had manipulated her—perhaps had always been manipulating her—Elsa felt utterly betrayed. It didn't leave cold fury within her, but a white hot rage. That rage broke when her fist slammed against the table, freezing it in an instant, tiny, jagged scales of ice pointing directly towards the black jacketed Marshal of Arendelle. Anger was not useful, despite what she had allowed it do to the fjord. Her anger wasn't just directed at Gerhardt, either. She shared some of the blame, allowing herself to be manipulated like that. Weaseltown shared a lot of the blame, for their brazen attacks against both Anna and herself. But she was surprised and ashamed to find out most of her anger was directed at her sister—for managing to get kidnapped through no fault of her own.

Taking a deeper breath, Elsa studied the table, placing her hands against it, before thawing it. She couldn't do it. The ice smoothed and cracked in places, but it didn't thaw. There were a few gasps of surprise, and Elsa didn't blame the people they came from. She saw Marshal Gerhardt standing. She couldn't look him in the eye right now, but she waved for him to retain his seat even as she rolled back from the table.

"No. Stay," she addressed the rest of the council, rolling towards the doors. "I need a moment to compose myself."

Outside the council chamber Anna sat, shivering slightly. She looked up, hair falling loosely over her shoulders as she turned to face her sister. Elsa gave her a tentative wave and a little smile. How could she be angry at her own sister? More accurately, how could she possibly stay angry at her sister, especially seeing her wearing that glove. It brought back painful memories for both of them, but it least it let Anna offer her hand to her sister. Elsa took the proffered hand, glad for the silent support.

"I just got so angry in there Anna," she shook her head sadly as she spoke. "I controlled it. I didn't freeze him—even after everything he's done. I didn't even feel like freezing him over at all. He's just doing his job—and that's probably the worst part, because I know it was necessary. I _hated_ it; but he was right. It's like he's always been right—like you, but not nearly as likable as you are. He's brash, brutally honest, and his views are so opposed to mine it's surprising we can stand to be in the same room as each other, let alone hold a civil discussion."

Elsa let out a heavy sigh, and felt her spirits lift slightly when Anna smiled at her. She couldn't speak, but she gave Elsa a look that seemed to say 'you'll be fine, I know you will', and Elsa reached out with her free hand to pat her sister on the shoulder before she knew what she was doing. She watched as Anna fought herself not to move, not to shy away—and shared her disappointment when she couldn't keep up the fight quite long enough.

"It's okay," Elsa dropped her sister's hand, slowly turning back to the door she had come out through. "When you're ready." Then she smiled at her sister before rejoining the council. There was more to discuss, and putting it off would not make things any easier.

Back at the head of the table, Elsa spoke calmly and clearly, trying to keep emotion from shading her voice. "I might personally detest what you did to me that day, Marshal Gerhardt, but I cannot argue that it was not in the best interests of the kingdom. You are more than just in your endeavours to protect Arendelle, and I can more clearly see my father's wisdom in appointing you to the post of Marshal of Arendelle. I dislike you—if I am honest about it, I might never like you—but I respect you for your abilities. I detest the views you hold, but I can see their necessity—despite how much just knowing that irks me. I might hate what you have done—to me, especially—but strangely…"

Elsa let those words hang in the air, let Gerhardt stew for a little as she took a breath and this time successfully thawed the massive table they were all sat around.

"…strangely enough, you are also the only man I would entrust with my kingdom's safety. I doubt we will ever, _ever_ see eye-to-eye, Marshal Gerhardt, but we can at least be civil in our discussions. For now, that will have to be enough," Elsa finished her speech, clasping her hands and resting her wrists gently against the edge of the table, letting those words sink in. The tension in the room was slowly draining away, and it felt good. Less conflict—better for her beloved kingdom.

"Your majesty?"

"Yes, minister Johanssen?"

"In a day or so a clipper should be arriving from Spain, with their response to our request to send a diplomatic courier. I know it may not be wise, with Weselton's fleet still present, but should some of the fjord be thawed, to provide a path for our future allies?"

"Marshal Gerhardt?" Elsa looked expectantly at the man she so often butted heads with.

"Until we can reassess properly how much of a threat Weselton now poses, I think it best the harbour at least remains bound by ice. They may launch a retaliatory attack for our actions in rescuing Princess Anna—though that seems doubtful. However, their ships impose upon our sovereign waters, and their guns remain a threat both to Arendelle, and to any allies who might approach. Our best recourse would be to repulse the fleet with a simple show of force—except for the fact that we lack sufficient force to truly threaten that fleet. staying where they are, anchored beyond the ice, that fleet represents an excellent blockade, and a gauntlet none of our ships could safely run."

Elsa closed her eyes, sighing in disgust. This was something she'd never thought of. Once more using her powers in any kind of aggressive action had only created more problems, not less. Now Arendelle was cut off from the sea, and the largest portion of her trade. The Weaseltown fleet didn't need to do anything. All they had to do was be there, and they would remain a thorn in Arendelle's side until they either ran out of supplies, or were destroyed. She doubted any among them would take to parley—not that she entertained the thought for very long, given what they'd done to her sister. But this was a problem.

"What should we do?" Elsa addressed the council as a whole. "What options do we have left—and Marshal Gerhardt, I will _not_ be using my magic this time. It's what caused this whole mess, as far back as you care to trace it. Is there a way we can force them to retreat?"

"Offer to re-open trade?" minister Johanssen dared to suggest.

"But that would mean we were actually considering doing so. I cut trade with Weaseltown to make a point. I don't like kingdoms that try to kill me. Twice, now, in fact. I like them even less when they kidnap and torture my sister so badly she can't even—no. You don't get to know. No one here does. I'm not breaking her trust. Not again. She is hurt. Damaged in her psyche. All because one petty little duke couldn't handle losing trade with our glorious kingdom. I will _never_ trade with them again!"

"I retract the notion," Per Johanssen was visibly shaken by the outburst—and the revelation that the men of their closest trading partner would do something so vile to the Royal Princess.

"Good!" Elsa frowned at the rest of the council members. "Any other suggestions?"

"Take their ships."

Everyone turned to stare miss Ostberg-Lang.

"What?" she asked, deadpan. "It's not impossible. Arendelle's Royal Marines are arguably the very best there are at boarding actions. Why not make use of that skill?"

"Because we do not have enough marines to make such an attack effective," Gerhardt replied. "At least, not so openly. But we might be able to make this work—your majesty?"

"Please, continue. If it solves the problem of Weaseltown's fleet, I will give it due consideration."

"Thank you," Gerhardt offered a small bow from where he was sitting before he continued. "Now, we have four companies of the Royal Marines—though all are understrength—giving us a total of six hundred odd men. The crew on any of the second-rates will outnumber us. Three second-rates and three third-rates mean we will be outnumbered almost six-to-one in a fair fight—but I do not intend to fight fair. All we need do is capture their flagship. That should be a sufficient message. If it is not… I am sure sabotaging the powder magazines on the other ships should reinforce the point."

Elsa let out a shuddering breath. This was far, far worse than at the fort. Here, if she gave approval to this plan, hundreds—literally, _hundreds_ —of men would die at her command. All because she'd slighted a petty little man with a bad toupee and designs on her kingdom's wealth. The consequences of this might be too much, even for her, but she would never dream of placing such a burden upon the shoulders of another person. She closed her eyes before speaking, looking towards the floor.

"You have my permission to implement this plan immediately, Marshal Gerhardt," opening her eyes, Elsa swept the table once more. "There is a lot left to discuss; but first, may I take a moment to ascertain my that my sister is still behaving outside?"

Getting only nods, Elsa wheeled herself to the doors one more time, looking out to find Anna sprawled out across three chairs and a footstool, snoring softly. She started, nearly rolling on to the floor, and Elsa had to suppress a laugh. It was just so… normal, it made her heart ache. Smiling softly she returned to her assigned place within the chamber.

"I think we have bored Princess Anna to sleep. At any rate, I feel comfortable proceeding with this meeting. Shall we?" she gestured to miss Ostberg-Lang, taking in the strange way her hair had been decorated. "Would you care to inform me why you seem to be taking on our scribe's duties—is he ill?"

"Ah, that's right. No one told you. We haven't been able to get through the Palace Guards since you returned with the Royal Princess yesterday. Larsson tried to stab me."

"What?!"

"That was after we outed him as the traitor he was."

Elsa looked over to Gerhardt, remembering the way he had reacted to the ransom note she had handed him. He merely nodded, flicking his eyes back towards miss Ostberg-Lang.

"It's actually his knife holding my hair in place," miss Ostberg-Lang reached up to pat the handle of the knife. "Evil little thing. There's a button on the handle that releases the blade, held out by a spring until it locks in place. Very rare, switchblade like that. Took it as my own after I got it out of my chest—oh, don't look so shocked, it was only a little stabbing. Barely got through my armour."

"So he was working for Weaseltown?"

"Most assuredly," Ostberg-Lang replied. "We found certain poisons secreted about his house as well. I have a theory that one of those may have contributed to minister Johanssen's recent ill health. Larsson had been working for Weselton from the start, apparently. He was a good spy, but not good enough. Now there comes the harder issue of punishment for him—and for those aligned with him."

"Justicar Kristoffersen?" Elsa turned to the older, heavier gentleman sat next to the Bishop. "What is the traditional punishment for treason within Arendelle?"

"Death," he gave a simple reply that made Elsa's blood run cold. "I can see already you don't like the notion, but that is the stated punishment for those who would try to subvert or overthrow the monarchy. It is also to send a clear message to other, would-be traitors. Their deaths need not be public spectacles—but the townspeople will need to know the threat has ended, and how so."

"No!" Søren burst out from the far side of the table. Elsa fixed her gaze upon him. "You can't do that to my son!"

"Your… son?" Elsa asked, not understanding.

"Konrad… he was… he was part of the mob that attacked you. Please… have mercy. He's only fifteen."

"Old enough to know better," Kristoffersen countered.

"Elsa didn't come of age and take the crown until twenty-one."

"I spent three years mourning the death of my parents. It was not right to assume the mantle until then. I will forgive that outburst, guildsman Søren, but remember where we are."

"He's only a child," Søren protested. "His mind was clouded by lies. Can't you see that Bishop Gudbrand—can't you see how your words failed him?"

"The words of the Divine did not fail, only the way in which they were interpreted."

"Søren!" Everyone turned to look at the council's advisor. Her green eyes burned with inner fire. "Leave us. Take a moment to compose yourself. We will not discuss your son's fate any further until you return. Oh, and don't disturb the Princess while you're out there, I doubt that would reflect well on you right now."

The former blacksmith balled his hands, pushing himself up and back from the table. He left, stopping just short of slamming the door. Elsa rested her head in her hands. This was the worst possible thing to lay on her shoulders right now. She didn't need to be worrying about someone else's family. Especially when she might be sending said family member to their death. All it would take was a few words, and she could end Søren's family. She didn't want to, but she had a feeling she might have to. Equal punishment for equal crimes.

But she had to think of the consequences of her actions. If Søren's son was put to death for his crimes, she risked alienating him not just in front of the council, but in front of the kingdom, for having failed in some way as a father—perhaps even as her own father had. But then, if she were lenient, and let him live, it might alienate the townspeople. It might encourage other traitors that they too, could get away with life instead of death. Worse, it could even mean the townspeople taking the law into their own hands. She still remembered the scream she had heard while lying on the frozen cobbles of the dock. Another repercussion would be the guilds—Søren led all of them. If she alienated him, he might turn all the guilds against her, and Arendelle could come close to collapse if that happened. But the very worst thought was what her people would think of her, no matter what decision she made.

This was worse than Weaseltown's fleet. Worse than possibly sending hundreds of men to their deaths. No matter what she chose here, in this moment, she was going to suffer. Either from Søren, the guilds, the council, or her people. There were _no_ good options, and it was _terrifying_. This was what being a ruler was truly about—the ability to make the very best of the very worst decisions. She would not have wished a decision like this on her worst enemies. It was just too cruel. And then, to expect her, with how little experience of the world she truly had, to make such a decision?

She buried her head deep in her hands and began to cry. Why did the world heap all this upon her shoulders? Was the Divine truly testing her strength, or was this all some cruel joke fate was playing upon her for finally seeming to have things under control? It just wasn't fair. What was even less fair was that she couldn't go to Anna to find solace. Not when she so badly needed a hug, and all they could do was hold hands. But there was something she _could_ do, no matter how disruptive it might seem.

"This meeting is over," she looked around the table as she spoke, taking the other council members' less-than-shocked looks. Almost like they expected something like this to happen. That was when she noticed the snow hanging in the air. So they knew where her thoughts had gone then. "I–I will meet with each of you personally tomorrow, and we can establish then what we are going to do. Agreed?"

Gerhardt nodded, standing first. "Would you like us to escort master Skjeggestad from the castle?"

"I—yes. This is a lot to deal with, and I do not know how much longer I can maintain my composure if this discussion continues. I thank you—all of you—for understanding how difficult this is for me. I am trying to be the Queen my people need…"

"You are that Queen," Bishop Gudbrand assured her as he stood, last to leave the council chamber. "You just don't see it yet."


	44. Safe

It had been a long day. In many ways, and several it had been far too long for Elsa's liking. Dinner had been strained—it felt unnatural for Anna to be silent throughout an entire meal, let alone an entire day. Elsa had successfully fended off the staff by insisting on serving dinner herself—not preparing it, because she didn't want to add that kind of disaster to Anna's plate—just getting it from the kitchen to her sister's place at the table. She hadn't even attempted to unburden herself to Anna either, not with the decisions she was now facing. It would not be fair to lay that on her sister's shoulders. Not now. She couldn't just go and talk to someone either, because that would mean leaving Anna alone for an extended period, something she was currently loath to do.

So instead of talking it out, she was suppressing things. Again. But she was also promising herself that before it got too much, she would talk to someone—someone she could trust—before it got out of hand. She didn't want her sister worrying she was falling back into old habits. Mostly because she was falling into them, but she was also making sure she could do so safely. Anna deserved that much—more than that much—for her efforts in trying to get her to open up more.

Elsa's thoughts snapped back to the present moment as she watched Anna undressing, facing away from her. She could see the angry looking welts across her sister's back. She could see the way Anna winced whenever her clothing brushed against even one of those scars. Elsa didn't even want to imagine the pain her sister had endured receiving those scars. It made her wince and shrink back in her chair just thinking about it. But there was something she could _do_ about it. If Anna let her.

"Is it sore?" Elsa asked, already feeling stupid. Of course it's sore, she was _tortured_ , Elsa berated herself. Anna just nodded slowly, half turning so Elsa could only see her in profile.

"I–I want to help. To… soothe those cuts. They look very painful," and here, again, Anna could only nod. "Like in the bath, with my magic…"

The red haired young princess drew in a breath. Elsa waited for a sign, a patient look settling across her features. Her sister could take as long as she wanted, she wasn't about to rush her into a decision. This would involve touching—a lot of touching, in fact—skin-to-skin contact. She knew it would help, but she also knew Anna might not be ready for it yet. And that Anna might be at war with herself over that very fact.

"You don't have to say 'yes', Anna. It's—well; I'm offering to help," Elsa paused, considering her next words. "I… might be a little hurt if you refuse—but I know why, so it's alright. I mean, you can always ask later, if you're ready then, and not now. Is that okay?"

There was a small nod as Anna processed all that. Then a more enthusiastic nod as she realized what was being said. Elsa busied herself with struggling into a simple shift to sleep in, before climbing into bed. Her bed. They were in her room tonight, but the bolsters were lined up in her bed like they had been in Anna's. Anna hadn't said much—or written much, in fact—but she'd made it clear she wanted to sleep in Elsa's room tonight, not her own. Elsa didn't mind indulging her.

Anna was still wearing the glove as she climbed into bed, and that reminded Elsa of how her sister had been helping with her own struggles. Little steps. One thing at a time. Persistent, but not pushy or overbearing. Maybe that approach would work here too. All she needed was somewhere to start. Something she hoped wouldn't be too painful to talk about. Something that wouldn't be too painful to touch, either.

"Anna?" her voice was soft, tentative, a little breathy as she struggled upright, grabbing one of the bolsters to support her back. Anna turned to look her in the eye. "May I please see your wrist—I'll have to help you take the glove off first, okay?"

Elsa watched her sister's eyes. They looked questioningly at her first of all, then at the glove, then more focused on her wrist as she turned her hand over. Trembling slightly, she extended her hand over the line of bolsters dividing the bed. Elsa gently took hold of her sister's arm, being careful to touch only the glove. She carefully worked the fingers off first, noting how hard her sister was fighting to control her still shaking hand. It took more than five minutes, but eventually Anna had slid her hand out of the glove, leaving her sister holding an empty velvet glove, rendered in Arendelle green.

Letting out a shaky breath, Elsa gently laid the glove on the bolster between them. She closed her eyes before speaking. "Your courage has always inspired me. Always. I just want you to know that," opening her eyes she caught her sister staring up at her with unabashed pride. "I–I'm just going to leave my right hand here, an–and when you're ready—when _you_ are ready—you can lie your wrist against it." Then she smiled, and closed her eyes. Anna would take that step when she was ready, and she wasn't going to push—oh.

Her sister had already taken that step. Elsa let the exultation of the moment fill her heart before she really looked at what those men had done. And what they had done was devastating. Mid-way from the back of her wrist the scar began. The edges were surprisingly even, so she knew the blade must have been _sharp_. From the shape of the scar, and the way the skin pinched slightly, she could tell it must have been deep. She was tracing the scar with the fingers of her left hand before she realized what she was doing. A quiet gasp and a tiny trembling froze her. She had some idea of how those bastards at the fort would have terrorized her sister with this act.

"You were scared." It wasn't a question, but Anna nodded anyway, not shying from Elsa's touch against her wrist. "They wanted to scare you; wanted you to think they would take you hand." Once more Anna could only nod in reply, fear slowly filling her eyes. Elsa couldn't miss it.

"It's okay to be afraid sometimes. Even you. Even the very bravest person I know can get scared; and you know what that tells me?" Anna shook her head. "That it's okay for me to be scared sometimes too. Because if even the bravest person in the world gets scared, then it must be alright for people that aren't so brave to get scared as well."

Anna smiled, shaking her head slightly. Elsa got the impression she didn't quite understand what was being said, so she elaborated. "You're the bravest person in the world to me. You were so strong, for so long, I might have taken it for granted. I never thought to ask you if anything was wrong, because you were so brave you hid all your pain just like I did—and you were even better at it. But that's okay. You're brave. You still are, and I love you for it. More than you can ever know." She finished with a devilish wink.

Anna stared back at her, mockingly aghast. Then Elsa felt the roughness of the scar on her sister's wrist moving against her fingers. She took it as a strange kind of permission, and traced the scar past the side of Anna's wrist, noting the wince as she touched the tiny bone there, and around to the heel of her hand. She could not even begin to imagine how terrifying it must have been, knowing that in that moment she would lose her ability to do… everything. If that had happened, if Anna had come back that broken, and had wanted to… Elsa didn't think she would have had the strength to stop her.

Elsa let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Anna had come back, she'd come back whole—not unhurt, but whole. She wondered if her sister was self-conscious about the scars—she knew she would be in her place.

"Do the–do the scars bother you?" she asked tentatively. Anna's lips quirked, and she shook her head, then she nodded, then she shook her head again and shrugged. "They're not just marks on your flesh—and they'll heal, they will. They're proof." Anna gave her sister a questioning look. "They are. Proof you're a survivor. Proof you're strong. They're like… I guess they're kind of like medals. For being strong enough to go through all that and not break."

The red haired young princess fixed her sister with the same questioning look. "I'm just… I want you to… sometimes I don't get the words right." And then Anna smiled at her, and Elsa knew what to say. "I want you to feel better. About everything. Because you went through hell, and it wasn't fair, and part of me never wants to know what happened—but then the big sister part of me wants to know so I can make it right. I want to help, but I don't want to mess things up worse."

Sitting up straight, Anna extricated her arm from Elsa's grip. Then she slapped her sister just hard enough to leave a mark against her cheek. Then she fell backwards onto the pillows, sides heaving with silent laughter. Hand against her reddened cheek, Elsa stared down at her sister. Anna was clearly still in there, telling her she was being an idiot for being afraid of messing things up worse. Definitely Anna.

* * *

In the ruined, darkened fortress of Løkarna, someone groaned in pain. Then he grunted in effort, toppling Sander's corpse from atop his legs and stomach. His mouth was dry, and he ached all over. His left leg felt dead, and his left arm wasn't much better. He knew he'd been shot at least twice. But somehow, he wasn't dead. Everyone around him was. There was no doubt in his mind that the Queen of Arendelle had survived, and more, had managed to rescue the feisty little princess. He still felt sorry for them. And for his fellow soldiers—although maybe not so much for Sten, who was probably lying somewhere around there as well.

Mikkel… Lieutenant Engberg; he'd been dead several hours by the time the Queen arrived. Everyone had been surprised by that. By the fact the Princess was a killer. Herman had been the first to learn of that, during the ambush. Of course the feisty little bitch had collapsed in shock—but what if it had all been an act? Then again, she had seemed quite legitimately terrified when Mikkel had threatened to take her hand. But she hadn't broken—not really—when she'd been abandoned for the night. Her predictions about the Queen killing them to save her had also been chillingly accurate.

Struggling from the pile of bodies, he began limping around the room, looking for anything useful. He checked the dungeon as well—and that was where he found Sten. The Princess had been right. Her sister could kill, and in the cruelest way possible. He could see the expression of raw terror frozen forever onto Sten's icy face. But Sten was down in the dungeons, facing the Princess's cell, not up with the rest of the bodies—he hadn't fought. He pushed the statue over, disgusted. It fell with a heavy thud, chipping against the stone, but not breaking like he expected.

He went back up the stairs, collecting a few more crossbow bolts and another dagger, then he limped out of the old fort. It was night. He was in the border forest—and then he realized he had no idea who he was. He knew the name of everyone he had been with. How they acted, what they liked. But he couldn't remember a single thing like that about himself. He did recall something else though. He had torn a strip of cloth from the Princess's shirt, wrapping it around her bloodied wrist.

There was more. When she'd been shot. They needed her alive, so they'd turned to him—was he some kind of physician, perhaps? He had stripped her shirt off, and yes, he had felt those breasts. He was momentarily ashamed of himself, taking advantage of such a fragile creature in a moment of weakness. It was done, and he could not undo it. He had removed the bolt carefully, packing the wound, then binding the bandage in place with a narrow roll of cloth. He'd used enough to preserve her dignity as well. It had seemed only right.

He knew he couldn't go through Arendelle—not after what he and the soldiers with him had done. He couldn't return home either—wherever that was. Wessy-something. But he could stay here, in the forest. Find a cave, treat his wounds. Hunt for food, live off the land. Maybe this was supposed to be a second chance, a chance to make amends. He didn't really care. He could just as easily live out here and not make things worse. That should have been enough. There was also the fact that he had somehow survived, and no one else had. Maybe he was supposed to fulfill some higher purpose—but what?

He shrugged, limping his way through the forest, finding a quiet hollow before long. He pulled his jacket tighter and drifted off to sleep, hoping nothing found him too appetizing during the rest of the night. He could decide his path in the morning. All he knew was that he wouldn't be going back. Not this time.

* * *

Elsa was sitting at her desk, sunlight streaming in the high windows behind her. It was her father's desk, massive, made of dark woods and polished to a high sheen. On it rested her correspondence for the day. Off to one side sat a note from Marshal Gerhardt insisting they meet concerning Lieutenant Eriksson's recent injuries. There was a miniscule postscript enquiring as to the health and whereabouts of her sister—Princess Anna. There was something wrong with that, but she couldn't quite place it. A vague feeling of unease, of some great error she had overlooked. That was when Kristoff staggered in, blonde hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, looking absolutely horrendous. It was the look on his face that was worse; something between terror, disbelief, and utter revulsion. Staggering forwards he placed a small box on the desk, then all but collapsed, his back resting against the dark, wooden panels.

The Queen of Arendelle reached out with trembling hands, mortally afraid of what she would find in that box. There was a note attached to the top. She unfolded the note and pressed it flat against the surface of her desk. She forgot everything else. This was… this was… she refused to believe it. She tore into the box, throwing the lid aside with enough force that it shattered. Her head snapped to the side, and she saw it had frozen in mid-air, striking the bookshelf to her right, falling to the floor in a myriad pieces. But it was inside the box. Inside… that had to be what Kristoff so reviled. One glance was enough to make her gorge rise. She knew _exactly_ what it was, and she threw up so violently she somehow managed to fall from her chair.

She dragged the box with her, the sole item inside falling against the floor with a soft thump. Elsa forced herself to look at it. To make sure it really was what whoever had sent the package said it was. The wrist… the bones—the bones had been hacked through violently, but the skin was cut so cleanly it didn't make any sense. None of it made sense, because Anna had only had one hand to lose, and this was… Elsa felt her stomach twist as she touched the cold, pallid flesh. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. She couldn't imagine any worse punishment befalling her sister. And that note…

_If you do what we ask, you'll get the rest of her back. Disobey us, and we send her back piece by piece._

Elsa shuddered, screaming, taking the severed hand's cold fingers in her own before she threw that, too, across the room. All she could hear was her own screaming. She had no idea if Anna had even survived. If they hadn't bound the wound… and even if she still lived; would she even want to? And Elsa knew with a grim surety she'd never had before that her sister wouldn't be able to come back from this. Not after losing so much. She felt hollow. Empty. Even her magic had abandoned her. There was _nothing_. She dragged herself torturously across the floor, carpet dragging at her icy dress. It didn't matter. None of it did.

The only thing she had left of her sister was this. One tiny piece, still bleeding a little, staining her dress as she clutched it to her breast. Why was she even bothering to hold on? Because… because Anna would want her to, even if _she_ couldn't. But if she continued like that, Elsa knew she would be living a hollow, empty life. There would be nothing worth living for anymore. Nothing worth—the hand slapped her, and her scream echoed throughout the entire castle.

Anna was above her, eyes wide with terror, red hair tangled around her face and shoulders. Elsa looked up into those shadowed, turquoise orbs and her own scream ended. She blinked. The moonlight from the window was just enough to see by, and Anna put a finger to her lips, demanding silence. Elsa slowly closed her eyes, taking—trying to take—a calming breath. She couldn't help but stare at her sister's wrist, at the scar that ran along it, at the way the hand was still solidly attached and the fingers still worked. Anna noticed how her sister was staring, and gestured for her to continue—to open up.

"You–you don't mind?" Anna rolled her eyes, rolling sideways and groping for something. It took a minute or so, but she had the gaslamp beside the bed lit and glowing softly. She made the gesture again, pointing firmly to Elsa when she finished. Elsa exhaled softly, arms reaching up to hug herself. Anna smiled gently, holding her hand up to still Elsa's movement. She mimed hugging her sister, then smiled softly, and shook her head sadly.

"I know," Elsa's tone was quietly understanding. Then she began recounting her dream. "It was bad. I was in my study"—Anna rolled her eyes again—"I'm being serious here, thank you very much. I was in my study, and Kristoff walked in. He looked terrible"—Anna speared her sister with an indignant look—"I mean really, he did. Like he'd seen a ghost, or fought off some kind of monster, and lost"—now Anna began to look worried, but she motioned for her sister to keep talking—"he had a little box. It was… inside it… there was… they…"

She couldn't say it. How was it she couldn't say just one little thing? So Elsa didn't say anything, instead, she mimed taking Anna's hand—not touching her sister, being very careful not to accidentally brush against her—then she made an odd twisting, snapping motion, and placed it in an imaginary box. Anna's hand went to her mouth, and she swallowed loudly, breathing heavily as she turned away from her sister. Scrambling around near the side of the bed, Anna retrieved the diary and scribbled furiously before handing it to her sister.

_Did Kristoff do that?_

Elsa gaped at the question in open-mouthed shock. How could her sister even think that? To think that she would think that her sister's boyfriend was capable of such a cruel act. But she hadn't given Anna any context, except for her study, Kristoff, and the box.

"No, Anna," she tried to soothe. "It wasn't Kristoff. They sent it to him first. The…men that did that to you, they put a note with it. Saying if I didn't listen that I'd only get you back in pieces. I was scared. Terrified—afraid you might… might… do something bad."

Anna gestured emptily around the room. It had been snap frozen, and now the light was a little higher, Elsa could see that fact. Almost everything had been covered in a thin layer of ice. Including, she finally noticed, her sister. Well, her sister's back and left side. Most of the ice had already flaked off or melted. Elsa looked around the bed. It took far too long to thaw everything out. Anna gave her a sad look as the last of the ice fell from her back.

"I'm s—" Elsa's apology was cut short by a hard slap. Anna gave her a dark look—truly angry—and it scared Elsa more than she cared to admit. But it did stop her wanting to apologize for everything. Instead, she just wanted to massage her cheek. Anna really knew how to hit someone, even if she did look rather chagrined right now. Maybe she'd hit a little harder than she'd intended to.

Anna yawned widely, and Elsa could tell she was being melodramatic, but it was late. Easily after midnight. Anna smiled brightly, turning out the gaslamp and hitting the pillows with a quiet whump. So very Anna. As she struggled back under the covers herself, Elsa noticed something resting on top of the bolster between them. A hand—connected, doubtless, to an arm. But it was far, far more than that. She lay her own hand atop the warm flesh, and marveled when, instead of pulling away, that hand twined with hers, fingers slowly interlocking.

As she drifted back to a more peaceful kind of sleep, Elsa heard a quiet sigh. She wasn't sure, but even the slight hope of what it meant filled her heart with joy. It sounded like a breathless whisper. It wasn't hers either. It came from the far side of the bed, and it offered a single word that meant, perhaps, everything, between them.

"Safe."


	45. The Decision

Two men sat across a table in the spacious wardroom of the Southern Isles' First-Rate _Victory_. Both had the auburn hair and piercing green eyes distinctive to the Westergard name. More than that, barring differing uniforms, the men looked exactly alike. Almost. One had an impressive scar running down the left side of his face, from his temple to just above his upper lip. It missed his eye by a hair's breadth. The same brother wore short, dignified sideburns. His opposite number had instead a very fine beard, and no sideburns at all.

"I doubt she'll even agree to an audience, Frederik," the brother with the beard spoke in a rich baritone, voice used to issuing commands and being obeyed. "Not after what Hans tried to do."

"Don't you dare mention that name!" Frederik slammed his fist against the table between them. "I have no brother who ever bore that name."

"I—fine. But it's going to hit you eventually; what your final words to him were."

"You think it hasn't, Nikolaus?" Frederik took a deep breath, anger burning in his eyes. "Attempted regicide? In a foreign kingdom?"

Nikolaus spread his hands against the surface of the table, idly smoothing out the map and the letter he had been perusing, waiting for his brother to finish.

"He _deserved_ those words. If you ask me father was _merciful_ with that sentence. You know what they would have done in Brittania—at least this was… clean."

Nikolaus crossed his arms. "Aye, it was. But he was still my brother. I don't care what else he was Rik, he was still _my_ brother."

Frederik had no answer for that, folding his arms, mirroring his brother's posture. He couldn't meet his eyes, if he did, the mask would crack, and then Nikolaus would see all his conviction crumble into the fear it really was. He was afraid, because if Hans could turn out so… wrong… what chance did the rest of them have? That was why his final words to that brother had been so acrimonious. Scathing. Abusive. He couldn't take those words back—and he hadn't felt like doing so, because in the moment he had meant every last one of them. A wry smile was tugging at the corner of his lips, making his scar twitch.

"I can tell you're thinking about it Frederik. It's not too late to make your apologies."

"After what he did, Niels?" Frederik resorted to using his brother's nickname—just to get a rise out of him. "In all my thirty years, I have never seen such a cold, calculating act; how they say he abandoned the Princess. Then we have his actions on the fjord. He maimed the Princess. He _crippled_ their Queen. I'm surprised his head was still attached to his shoulders when the king of France delivered him to our shores!"

"I think that's a good sign Rik; that they didn't just summarily execute him for his actions. Shows real restraint, and a good deal of political forethought. She turned him into _our_ problem—well, a problem for you and father. News would have to get back to her eventually of what we did—or didn't do—to our youngest brother. She can then ruthlessly judge the character of the Southern Isles while appearing completely magnanimous by having sent our brother back unharmed."

"That's a remarkably astute political observation there, dearest brother," Frederik exhaled softly. "So you _do_ pay attention in council then."

"Sometimes, Rik. Sometimes," Nikolaus smiled at his twin. "I've learned a few things watching you, father, and Walder discuss politics and other schemes. I swear it's positively _byzantine_."

"Oh, shut up," and Frederik reached across the table to thump his brother on the arm. Nikolaus managed to look wounded, and rubbed his arm, but both of them were smiling. "I think we should finish this discussion in the morning, Commodore Westergard."

"Aye, Prince Westergard."

* * *

In his workshop, Søren took in all his hands had wrought. He'd needed something to vent his anger on, and now it was spent, he regretted his actions. More than he thought possible. He'd made it as a gift. A work of art; a reminder of his skill and craft. Now it lay in ruins, never to be completed. He hated it more than he could ever tell. Because of it he hadn't been home enough. He'd abandoned his son, and now because of that Konrad was facing a charge of treason—even attempted regicide. Søren sank to the floor, his hammer striking the ruined chair one more time. He had put so much effort into it, and now… he struck the chair one last time, marring the snowflake crest, nearly splitting the backrest against the edge of the forge. The coals still glowed with red embers, casting his features in shadow. His hair hung limp around his face, and he thought he could smell something smouldering within his beard.

All of this was his fault, not Elsa's—but he still couldn't bring himself to accept that. That was why he had wrecked the chair he had made for her. It wasn't her, but it felt _good_ to destroy something that was hers—or intended for her. He didn't know what to do. Not anymore. Sylvi would have been so disappointed in him. He had failed as father, failed to protect his son, failed to guide the young man properly into adulthood. He had been swayed, by words, or by gold, but he had been swayed. Søren thought he had raised his son better than that. He knew he had—that was why it hurt so much.

And now, with a single word, Elsa could end his family. End his career. Turn the entire kingdom against him. All he had was the guilds—and while they might follow him to hell if he asked it of them, he doubted their conviction when it came to defying the Queen, rather than defying him. The hammer rang out again, and this time he didn't stop, beating the ruins of the Queen's chair until the tears made it too hard to see. The hammer crashed into something on the far side of the workshop, and the resultant ringing was enough to snap him out of his fugue. It sounded like a waterfall of metal.

His tool chest. It was falling from the bench, tools spilling across the floor. He blinked, crawling to the pile of shaped steel and iron. It was automatic, gathering the tools, placing them back in their proper places. He felt numb. Empty. There was nothing left to do, and he'd destroyed his only possible bargaining chip—not that it had been worth that much, but it might have been enough. His mind remained blank while he closed the tool chest and hung the hammer from the loop at his belt. He even managed to gather his hair into a tidy ponytail, and put out the embers stuck within the coarser hairs of his beard.

"Søren?" An incredulous voice sounded near the entrance to his workshop. The former blacksmith jumped, startled beyond measure. He expected dark laughter at that, given the voice, but it never came. "I–I heard the banging. I thought someone might be trying to steal from your workshop."

He already knew it was a lie, but he didn't care. "Vanja I—" he couldn't think of what to say. Nothing that made sense at any rate. "It's Konrad."

"I know."

"Why do you even care, Ostberg-Lang?" he was being deliberately disrespectful, but she didn't call him on it.

"You're important Søren. The guilds look up to you. We need you on the council. I—We want to see you get through this," Vanja frowned at him, green eyes simmering. "But if you can't, then I think it might be best if you step down as head guildsman, and appoint someone who can be more objective—for now."

"You just came here to deliver that ultimatum? Did the Queen send you?" real anger edged Søren's voice, hate dripping from his words.

"No. I didn't," Vanja replied with just as much vehemence. "And you think I _like_ taking orders from royalty? Especially from a _cripple?_ "

"That's…" Søren was stunned. He'd never heard anyone speak out against Queen Elsa in that way. Not with so much venom. Not with such conviction. "That's treasonous!"

"Maybe it is," Vanja's tone was aggravatingly calm, conversational. "Maybe it's just my opinion. But the Queen is not universally loved. There are some, I'm quite sure, who would not have minded in the least had she been dethroned permanently by that assassin."

"What in Odin's name are you talking about?" Søren was becoming very uncomfortable. He'd forgotten about his own troubles, but the way Vanja was talking right now, the way she seemed to exude casual danger put him in mind of a valkyrie. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He just didn't know what.

"I," Vanja took the time to enunciate the words the words as clearly as possible. "Do. Not. Like. The _Queen_."

Søren stared at her in open-mouthed shock. The honesty was insane. The brutal candor. Had she mentioned it in public, she might have been accused of treason herself. Especially with everything she had said or hinted at earlier. But he had no idea why she was telling him. Unless… no. Not even for Konrad. Not even if it could have brought Sylvi back. That would be a step too far down a path he would be forced to follow for the rest of his life—however long it might have lasted from that point.

"You—" Søren began, choking on the words. "I—No. Whatever it is you're offering, I can't accept your help. Not like that."

"Like what?" Vanja asked warmly, mouth twisting in a cruel imitation of a smile. Søren stared at her, unsure of what was truly happening to him. He might even have been driven mad with grief, and imagined the whole thing—but his arms ached with the force he had used to destroy the Queen's wheelchair. Elsa's chair. He still thought of her as another person—not as royalty—even when doing so was to his complete detriment.

"You still love your Queen, do you not?" he finally managed to ask, hand resting against the head of his forging hammer, sitting above his right hip.

"Of course," Vanja snorted, tossing her loose hair over her shoulders. "I do not like her as a person, or what she represents—but I still have to love my Queen. I value having my head currently attached to my shoulders—as I'm sure you do as well, Raske. I might just be going through the motions, but I would never raise a hand against her, crippled or not. She is better than many other monarchs I could mention—and as I mentioned before, I like my head where it is. I would be most upset to become separated from it."

Søren fell to his knees, his anger at the council's adviser fading to nothingness. Once again he'd managed to misread everything about a person. He'd had no idea what she was keeping hidden behind that mask, and now he saw it, it terrified him. If he said anything—if… what could he possibly say? She was a polite, courteous professional during council meetings. She'd never spread rumours about the Queen, one way or the other. In fact, this was the first time she'd mentioned anything of her true feelings. Or…

Or had it all been some kind of test, devised by Queen Elsa herself. No, he quickly decided. Elsa lacked the true guile something like this would require. It would more likely have been Kristoffersen, to test his loyalty; or perhaps Gudbrand, to test his wavering faith. He dismissed the theories. Not enough information to confirm or deny any of them. And it still could have been Vanja's true feelings.

"I—You really feel that way?"

"I haven't lied to you, Raske," her voice was hard, but it lowered when she continued. "I–I trust you. As a… friend. I don't want to see you driven away from the council, or the Queen. That… the pile of scrap over there, that was for her, wasn't it?"

Søren nodded, rising slowly, leaning against the nearest bench for support.

"You can fix it, surely?"

"I wish I could Vanja, but it won't make any of this go away."

"It doesn't have to go away Søren. But I think she would like it."

"But you said…?"

"I don't like her. But I don't hate her either. I don't want her to have a life as miserable as I had. No one deserves that. Especially not feisty young princesses taken against their will. I never did get much from the castle servants that night, but from what they did say… whatever the Queen did to those men holding her sister, they deserved it."

"And how is this supposed to help _me?_ " Søren shrugged helplessly.

"I guess I'm trying to give you a little perspective, Raske. You deserve some happiness too, especially with Konrad facing—I won't say it then."

"Th–thank you," Søren extended his hand. After a moment Vanja gave it a firm shake. "I'm glad you came. Maybe now I'll be able to sleep."

"Even if your neighbours can't," and Vanja Ostberg-Lang winked as she walked out the door, closing it carefully behind her, leaving the former blacksmith and head guildsman alone with his thoughts. He stared down at the ruins of the chair before the forge. He threw his hammer down at disgust in himself, then went to the bed in his office. If Konrad wasn't at home, it wasn't worth making the trip back there. Not anymore.

* * *

Anna stirred softly as Elsa removed her hand from their small embrace, but she didn't wake. It was still far too early, so Elsa felt safer in going about her normal morning routine. By the time she was properly dressed—ready to meet with the council one-on-one—she had a firm idea of what she could do to keep Anna feeling safe, but brave and independent. It started by leaving a note in the diary, and placing that as close possible to the young princess. Then Elsa leant over the side of her chair to sketch an arrow of frost on the floor of her room, leaving another one by the door. She changed her mind, dissolving that arrow, and instead calligraphing a large frost covered 'E' on the wall next to the door. She remembered one of Flynn Rider's early adventures, and was sure her sister would be drawn into the mystery long enough to forget her fears—at least for a time.

Then it was time for breakfast, toast—with lingonberry preserve, fruits, two eggs, and a simple glass of water. Nothing particularly heavy, because she'd never had a large appetite. Elsa smiled softly as she retreated from the breakfast table, then her thoughts turned sombre as she ran over today's meetings in her mind. Meeting with Søren would likely be the hardest, and she dearly wanted guidance on how she should act—but was unwilling to burden her recovering sister with such a weight. Her fingers rubbed at the crucifix beneath her dress. Perhaps the good Bishop could help? She sent Kai to fetch him as the first council member to meet that day—then she set about adding some embellishment to her plans to entertain her sister. But should the prize have been her, or a welcome surprise? Elsa eventually opted for the latter, carefully retrieving the Anna statue from her sister's room, placing it at the centre of the 'treasure chamber'. She carefully penned a short note, and rolled it up so it fit in the statue's hand.

She was in her office on the second floor not long after completing the adventure, filling out various items of paperwork that couldn't be avoided until she heard a single knock at the door. She called out that it wasn't locked, and Bishop Gudbrand stepped into the office, waiting patiently for her to finish her current task. She motioned for the older man to take a seat, and he did so gladly.

"You majesty," he bowed just before seating himself. "It is good to see you well—and Princess Anna, is she, too, recovering?"

"Slowly," Elsa nodded to herself. "After what those men did to her, I expect it will be some before she is able to put this ordeal behind her."

"Should she or you require my help in any way, you need only ask."

"I do ask," Elsa's voice was soft as she fidgeted with her cross. She saw the surprise in the Bishop's eyes. Had he not expected her to accept his offer—or perhaps not so readily? "I need guidance, for I find myself deeply troubled, and cannot see a clear path."

"Majesty, what is it that ails your soul?"

"Søren," Elsa sighed, clasping her hands in front of her. "His son. He is to be charged with treason, the penalty for which is death. I know, perhaps, that he deserves it for his actions—but what if he were coerced? And what of Søren; does he deserve the pain of losing his son?"

"No one truly deserves death—not if they are willing to repent for their actions. In the scriptures it is said that those who repent may find salvation, and though their body will eventually die, they will be saved, and their souls live on in the heavens. As to what you are asking, I do not know if Konrad could have been coerced so easily, swayed by gold or venomous words. Perhaps it was a way to lash out at his father, but from what I know of Søren, that seems very unlikely—he has been a good father all these years since his wife died, so I believe something in Konrad must have changed.

"Søren does not deserve the pain of losing his son, but I fear that has already happened. The Konrad I knew would not have acted as he did that day. It brings me no happiness to say this; but unless Konrad repents and shows true remorse for his actions, I believe you have little choice but to carry out that sentence."

Elsa buried her head in her hands. This was not the kind of guidance she had sought, not the counsel she wanted to hear—but perhaps it was something she had needed to hear. She still had yet to make that decision, and it would not be irrevocable until the hatch opened beneath him. Even if Konrad were spared, it would be a ghastly spectacle, and not something she was sure she could even watch, let alone order to happen. But her hands were tied by the laws of her kingdom, and to overrule them risked losing the support of her people, her council, and what few allies they had in the world. Treason simply could not go unpunished. Regicide—attempted regicide—even less so.

She hated what she was being forced to do, being forced to decide, with a vehemence that surprised her. She was opposed to conflict; to killing. She was wise enough now to know that sometimes there were no other options—her actions at the old fort had shown her that in a moment of desperation even she could kill. It had been to save Anna, and that was how she justified it to herself. Yet the revelation that she could kill was not what had shocked her most. It was the way she had killed that man—the soldier. She didn't even know his name. Knew nothing of him at all except that he was from Wesealtown; and that he was threatening her only remaining family. The desire to protect Anna had overridden everything else. She had frozen another heart, and this time there was no way to see it thawed.

Lowering her hands, Elsa raised her eyes just enough to look into Bishop Gudbrand's. "P–please forgive me. I… I killed…" her voice failed her, and she didn't know how to continue. But the bishop wasn't judging her. Instead he gave her a small, warm smile, touching his cross briefly before resting his hands in his lap.

"I forgive you for you actions, Queen Elsa. What has been done cannot be undone, but you show true remorse for your actions. One can clearly see how tortured you soul was by this act, and had it not been, I would be far more concerned."

"You–you forgive me?" the Queen asked softly, not fully understanding. "Just like that? What I did was… unforgivable."

"No, your majesty, it was not. I must respectfully disagree with you on this point. There is no act so heinous as to be complete unforgivable if the soul committing that act shows true contrition—as you always have. This may sound presumptive, but I have noticed that you often did not feel yourself worthy of forgiveness—but that does not mean you did not earn that forgiveness anyway. Just before the Great Thaw is where you truly earned your forgiveness, showing such love for your sister that it warmed the hearts of all who observed you—and who magnified your story in their retellings to those around them."

Elsa sniffed slightly, wiping away a rogue tear. What the bishop was saying was undeniably true, but she still had a hard time believing it. Even with the way the council still supported her. Even with the way Anna had always supported her. Even with the way Hank had protected her, risking his life in order to save hers. Even with the way a group of townspeople she didn't even know were willing to lay down their lives to ensure a would-be assassin never got another chance. Even… even with the way Gerhardt, her staunchest opponent on the council, had taken up arms to protect her from that same assassin. She still had no idea how she inspired such loyalty, such devotion, when all she seemed to be able to do was make things worse.

But then there was Anna, who would never accept the way she was thinking right now. What would she have told her? Something about the way it was her love that defined her. Something about the fact that she was _trying_ —always trying—to put things right. That in her own way she was just as stubborn and determined as the fiery young princess. Elsa felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, and idly wondered if Anna had begun exploring the castle yet. She let that warmth suffuse her entire body as thoughts returned to the original reason she had asked to talk with Bishop Gudbrand. She had to make a decision—she just didn't know _how_.

"I thank you for your words, Bishop Gudbrand, but that it is not the reason I asked to speak with you, as you well know. I am torn, conflicted beyond measure with this decision I now must make concerning both a traitor, a citizen, and the son of a man I might one day call friend. I… I am afraid of the consequences, regardless of which path I choose."

"Majesty, you are the Queen, and your decisions should not be lightly made, nor your conscience so easily swayed. You have a firm will and a strength of conviction other rulers might one day envy. As Bishop my guidance is this: What is lawfully done is not always what is rightful. It would probably pain our Justicar to hear me say that, but it is the truth, and I know it deep within my soul. It is from there that I know you are not a monster—not by anyone's standards but your own; and my apologies for even saying so much, your majesty. It is also from there that I will support any decision you come to make regarding not only Konrad Sørenson's final fate, but the fate of the other men accused with him. Even that weasel Larsson."

"Larsson attempted to kill miss Ostberg-Lang, did he not?"

"He did, your majesty. Reports say she was entirely unimpressed."

"She did seem rather casual about it during the meeting."

"I have known her for some time on the council, it is just her way. Nothing seems to faze the woman."

"I find myself wandering from the topic at hand. I fear that no matter what I do, despite the solidarity I have been thus far shown, that my choice will split the council down the middle, and my beloved kingdom with it, I—"

"Queen Elsa," Gudbrand spoke firmly, ending her vacillation. She saw a little fire burning behind his eyes now, and for a moment she remembered his anger when they had first discussed her powers in the library. She swore to herself that she wouldn't let herself get that angry again. Not with him. Not if what he planned to say was perfectly reasonable. And when he spoke, it was not anger that edged his voice, but passion, and a trace of fear. "I can guide you for as long as you wish around this moral quandary, but I _cannot_ make the decision for you. It is not my place."

Lowering her eyes, Elsa sighed, resting her forehead against steepled hands. She closed her eyes and lowered those hands to be level with her face. Then she prayed for guidance. The words of her dream came back to haunt her. _Pray for guidance, towards hope_. _In darkest hours_. She found the Divine rather less conversational than Gudbrand. But the prayer helped centre her mind; gave her time to reflect on what the bishop had said earlier. Doing what was lawful did not always mean doing what was right—which meant that the inverse must also have been true; that doing what was right was not always lawful.

It was both right and lawful to punish traitors. She knew that much as a surety. It was lawful that they be killed, in order to send a message that treachery would not be tolerated. It did not seem right—but at the same time she could see the necessity of such extreme action. It was also lawful to execute anyone who made an attempt on the life of the Queen. It was right to do so, to protect her family from any future harm. But only one man had made such an attempt, the others were merely accessories—but had they been pawns, or co-conspirators? Had they intended to kill her if the gunman had failed? If the crowd had not attacked them first? If they meant to kill her, then was it right that she sent them to their deaths? She let that thought go as 'probably right', intent on solving the real issue.

If one of those men had been a friend, it would have swayed her judgement. That was something she could not allow. Not this time. Now one of those men was barely into adulthood. Was it right he was handed the same punishment if found guilty of those crimes? Lawful, yes, but Elsa still wavered over whether it was right. But what if she made the problem _harder_ , and worked backwards? And so Elsa came to ask the hardest question of all, putting any thoughts of friendship or family from her mind. She had to do this without passion, without emotion. She had to be perfectly objective—and she could be appalled at how far she had fallen later. But now it was time to ask.

What if that person had been _Anna?_ What then; what punishment would that have warranted? Death. Not imprisonment. Not exile. Not for anyone— _anyone_ —who tried to kill her or harm what was left of her precious family. _Death_. It would not have been right—something like that could never, _never_ , feel right; the lawful act would have been to see Anna executed for the crime of attempted regicide. But it would not have been right. And she knew, even if it were necessary, she could never, _never,_ do that to her own flesh and blood. To have even thought that she might… it was impossible. Elsa knew she would have fought to save her sister, fought against every possible opponent to spare her life. Her love for her sister still clouded her judgement, and her mind's eye painted a terrifying picture of Anna swinging from a gallows with the other traitors. Elsa swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in her throat. No matter what, her sister was too special to lose.

That was what decided her. Thinking of what her own death might do her younger sister. A sister she had sworn to protect; to cherish; to hold dear. A sister she had nearly killed—had killed—and a sister she had saved. The sister who saw her not as a queen, but as a person, and who loved her unconditionally, and would never, ever think she was a monster. She would always be treated better, always be doted upon, always be spared; because she was kin to Elsa, and she felt no stronger bond. But here the Queen sat, preparing to pass judgement on the family, the son, of another man. But this time she could be truly objective. Could hold herself accountable and yet somehow distance herself from the act—because the young man she was judging was _not_ Anna; but he was a threat, to her, to the Queen, and to the kingdom as a whole.

Understanding that distinction was the core to resolving her conflict. Her mind was set, and even though it threatened to tear her soul asunder, she did not waver. She could weather any amount of hate that might be directed at her—because in that moment, no one would be able to match the hatred she felt for herself for making that decision. It still wasn't right. It was necessary. And she was willing to do what was necessary to protect her kingdom, her people, and most importantly her sister, from any further harm.

"I—" she began softly, clearing her throat past the lump she suddenly found there. "I know what I must do. You may leave now. When you see Kai, tell him I wish to have lieutenant Eriksson and guildsman Søren brought before me. In that order."

"Yes, your majesty," Gudbrand bowed deeply and left without another word.

* * *

Hank paused mid-strike, lowering his sabre as Kai approached him across the training ground. The royal servant's purposeful strides could mean only one thing, so he returned the blade to its scabbard, and stood to attention. Kai paused in front of him before speaking, gesturing that they should walk together. Hank noticed the bishop leaving as they approached the castle entrance.

"The Queen wishes to see me?"

"I was told as much, lieutenant Eriksson. Yourself, and guildsman Skjeggestad. I would normally trust him, but I believe Queen Elsa is about to deliver to him some rather unfortunate news—that is why she called for you first. I have some inkling of the news, given the rumours around town, but it is her majesty's prerogative whether or not to disclose unto you the full story."

"I see. Thank you for forewarning me, at the least."

"I sent a messenger to fetch the guildsman—depending on where he is found, you might find you do not have the time for a proper conversation with the Queen. If, however, you are able to talk with her, lieutenant Eriksson, then I would strongly suggest you avoid the topic of Princess Anna unless her majesty broaches it first."

"Understood." Hank paused at the base of the stairs.

"She is in her office, on the second floor," there Kai gave a slight bow, and returned to his duties within the castle.

Hank made his way to the second floor, walking perhaps just a little slower than usual, his right side still sore. He didn't bother lifting his shirt—all he would see was a white bandage wrapped around his stomach. Instead, he gently laid a hand over the wound, pressing down softly until the ache subsided. Perhaps sabre drills were a little too strenuous for now. Putting the errant thought aside, he knocked softly on the door to the Queen's office. It swung open at the second knock despite the fact Queen Elsa sat in her icy chair behind a similarly constructed desk. He had yet to ask what had happened to the previous desk.

"You requested my presence, your majesty?" Hank offered a slight bow as he entered her office.

"I did," she replied without preamble. "What I am going to tell you must remain in strictest confidence until the matter has passed through the house of law"—Hank placed a hand to his heart and gave a solemn nod as the Queen continued to speak—"One of the men involved in the attempt on my life is the son of one our councillors; guildsman Søren Skjeggestad. I have decided that there will be no special treatment for any of those men—Søren's son included. Having never faced a situation like this before; having never had to relay this kind of news to anyone, I wished to have you present as my protector."

Hank looked closely at the Queen. He could see the worry etched on her delicate features. The conflicting desires at war behind her eyes, the way she shifted nervously, clasping her hands together in her lap. She was in uncharted waters, and felt completely out of her depth. He didn't blame her, he'd never thought something like this could happen either. He was just grateful that he was not being forced to make decisions like that—decisions that could cost her a valuable supporter; maybe even a friend. But he also knew that if she had chosen to go with the other alternative she might well have been accused of giving her councillors preferential treatment. She might even have been accused of abusing her power as Queen of Arendelle. He didn't envy her position for a second.

"I do not fear Søren, or his possible reaction. That I can most likely deal with, in time. What I fear is what I might do if he were to become aggressive. Thus, if either of us looks to become a threat to the other, I am giving you permission to step in. I am also giving you permission to act with appropriate force, if necessary. Even against myself. I will not be responsible for harming another person, even if someone else has to stop me."

"Queen Elsa, I…" he didn't know what to say. Elsa had just given him permission to physically strike her, if it became necessary to protect the man she would be talking with. "I pray it does not come to that; but should it be necessary, I will act to forestall any violence from either party."

"Thank you, Hank. You're a good man."

Any possible reply was cut short by a knock at the door. It was Søren, and he looked disturbingly formal. Hank took in the cut of his clothes at glance. Definitely the most expensive suit the guildsman owned. Trousers of dark grey wool, with a red leather belt. The buckle was fashioned to resemble an anvil when closed. It was made of a dark, lustrous metal—perhaps even something Søren had fashioned himself. Tucked into the trousers at the waist was white shirt, and over that was a grey double breasted jacket. The guildsman's hair had been slicked back, oiled in place, and his beard had been immaculately groomed. Hank was impressed, given just his appearance now, he never would have suspected Søren of being any kind of smith, let alone a blacksmith.

As the guildsman sat, Hank took a single step away from the Queen, clearing a line between himself and both of the remaining occupants in the room. Before a single word was spoken he could feel the tension crackling between them. One hand rested close to the basket hilt of his sabre. Both had been balled into fists before he realized what he was doing. It would not be proper to display such apprehension openly. He pushed it to the back of his mind, listening for subtle changes in voice, flickers of dangerous expression in either face. He watched as Queen Elsa failed to meet Søren's eyes as she spoke, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Søren, for what I must do as Queen. In my mind there can be little doubt that if my citizens had not intervened, any one of the men in that mob would have attempted to kill me. Even your son. I hope you know that this is the hardest decision I have ever had to make."

"Yet you still made it," Søren fumed. "It's not your family you're tearing apart with this act, Queen Elsa."

"No," came a sad whisper. "It's not."

"Is there nothing you can do; no way to lighten Konrad's sentence?" Søren's anger was edged with desperation. "He's barely old enough to be called a man. He's done nothing wrong before now—"

"That you know of," Hank interrupted. "If I remember my teenage years correctly, guildsman Skjeggestad, there were a lot of things I did that my father would not have approved of."

"Stay out of this, bluejacket; this is not your fight."

"It is if you intend to fight the Queen," and with that statement Hank took a provocative step towards the guildsman, resting a hand on the hilt of his sabre.

"Only with words. He's only fifteen, Elsa—please, there must be something you can do?"

"I—My hands are tied, Søren. What would the rest of the council think if I gave your son preferential treatment?"

"That you were a good and merciful Queen?"

"Perhaps—but they would also see me as weaker for it. For not dealing with a threat appropriately. I would appear to be easily swayed—and we both know Marshal Gerhardt would have a field day with that kind of information, don't we?"

"But…"

"I wasn't finished, guildsman Søren. That is only the council. What of my people. Those few that still dislike the fact that I still rest upon the throne—what then? They might well be emboldened by such a show of mercy, convinced they might be spared if the right people pleaded their case. Then you have yet to consider those that support my actions. I might well lose some of that support—or worse, they might act in order to carry out what they think is a just punishment. That might see your son lynched—is that what you want?"

"My son has a name! It is Konrad!"

Ice rippled across the floor and frost covered the windows as Elsa slammed her fist against her icy desk. "Calm down. Please. I—This is difficult enough to say already. Please don't make it harder for me."

"Why should I care about how hard it is for you to say. It's not your child being sent to the gallows."

Elsa flinched as if struck, a tortured look crossing her face. Frost had erupted around her chair at that remark, and snow hung heavy in the air. Her eyes welled with tears, but when she spoke it was with fiery conviction. Hank had no idea what had happened, but it was clear that Søren had hit a nerve—a very raw one at that. It was the mention of a child that had done it, and he found himself eyeing the Queen's stomach. Was there something more about her powers he couldn't grasp, some greater price he had yet to fathom? Or was it related to the fact she was a cripple—unable to make use of her legs. Her next words cleared any confusion on the topic, and drove a dagger deep into his heart.

"Be glad you could have even one child. For any time. You have no idea how lucky you are."

"And now you would take that child away from me?" Søren all but spat the next word at the Queen. "Monster."

Hank was in motion even before he saw the halo around Elsa's hands, before he could register how sharply the temperature had dropped. Any sense of propriety had vanished with the need to take urgent action—as she had asked him to. His shoulder slammed into the side of her chair, spoiling her aim and sending both of them tumbling across the floor in a sprawling heap of tangled limbs. Hank felt his torso go numb, but not before he felt the wetness spreading down his side. He looked urgently around the room. A line of icicles ran from the right side of Elsa's desk all the way to the wall beside the main door. A secondary trail of smaller, jagged spears wove between them, fanning out across the room. Half a dozen of them pinned the door closed.

"Get off her!" a voice roared in his ear, and Hank felt someone immensely strong lifting him, half-throwing him aside. He was momentarily dazed, hand going instinctively for his sword. He stilled it a moment later, hearing Søren's concerned tone. "Elsa… Queen Elsa, are you okay?"

Elsa shivered on the floor, hugging herself. She gave a humourless little laugh. "I'm not okay. Look"—and she gestured at the spears of ice that had erupted from the floor—"Søren, I nearly _killed_ you. I asked—I… I asked you not to make things any harder for me. Now look." She gestured helplessly at the ice, pushing the guildsman away, pushing herself slowly upright, into a sitting position.

"Why didn't you just let her kill me?" Søren turned to Hank. He looked back at the former blacksmith, incredulous. He was completely lost for words. It was lucky then, that Elsa found some for him.

"Does your life really mean so little to you now, guildsman Søren?" Elsa asked in a quiet whisper. "Is there nothing left of your great works?"

"Not now," and he shook his head sadly in reply. "Not after what I did."

"What _did_ you do?" Elsa's curiosity was piqued, Hank could tell from the way she tried to sit up straighter, to look the guildsman in the eye.

"I—It was meant to be a gift. Maybe even a bargaining chip for Konrad. It was the reason I was away from home for the past two weeks. Working at night, keeping it from prying eyes. It was… it was supposed to be yours."

"Mine?"

"And I destroyed it. I took my forging hammer, and I smashed it until it wasn't worth anything. Even as scrap. It was the cause of everything, so I destroyed it. It was petty, and childish," Søren shook his head, dismissing the memory. "But doing that wouldn't bring Konrad back to me."

"You should go to him," Elsa spoke softly, still on the floor. Elsa gave a Hank a pointed look, and then gestured to her toppled wheelchair. Reaching down he lifted the Queen, carefully placing her within her righted chair. She turned back to Søren. "Speak with your son. Say your goodbyes. I would never wish for your last thoughts of him to be so acrimonious."

Søren bit back tears, and Hank watched his face as he came to a difficult decision. "What if… what if he really _was_ one of them?"

Elsa's reply was the softest, saddest thing Hank had heard in many years. "He was still your son."


	46. This Icy Grave

Anna awoke slowly, an annoyed grunt catching in her throat. She was about to try and offer her sister a sleepy hello when she realized her hand was empty. Elsa was gone. Her eyes snapped open, and Anna just caught the edge of the book her face was resting on—explained why she thought she was sleeping on a rock this morning. It wasn't just any book either, it was the diary she had been using to 'speak' for the past two days. She knew she hadn't used it last night, so that meant Elsa had to have written something in it. The young princess frantically flicked through the pages, swiftly identifying her sister's immaculate penmanship.

_I am so very sorry I had to leave you._  
Arendelle needs its Queen, even if you  
might need me more. You are more  
than brave enough.  
I love you.

_And please try to stay out of trouble._

Elsa had finished the note with a little flourish, but it was that last line that really caught Anna's attention. Her sister was suddenly treating her as if nothing had changed. Then it really hit her, Elsa, her overly concerned, overly protective older sister, was treating her as if nothing had changed. As if everything was still normal. It wasn't as any kind of insult or denial. She was trying to _help_. To help her feel normal again. That was when she noticed the arrow on the carpet, glittering in the mid-morning sunlight streaming in through the window. She was dressed in minutes, letting her hair hang loose for a change after a short session with a hairbrush—braids were impossible with one hand anyway.

The arrow of frost pointed to the door. Anna glanced at it with some trepidation. She wasn't sure she was ready to take such a big step, not yet, but her curiosity was more than piqued. Especially when she noticed the large, frosty 'E' drawn next to the door with quite some artistry. Something strange was going on here—and why had Elsa asked her to stay out of trouble? What was it she was not being told? That thought was enough to draw her into the hallway that ran the length of the third floor.

There was a bloom of frost on the pillar opposite the door. Anna traced the shape with her fingers, squinting at it, trying to discern the mystery. It was a snowflake; a very large one. She brushed it with her hand, and was terrified when it fell as powder to the floor of the hall. Her fear quickly turned to warm understanding when she saw what the frost had hidden. It was a rough sketch of her, not a recent one either. It also hadn't come from her Elsa chest—this was a new treasure. There was an arrow drawn on the bottom of the paper, pointing toward the staircase at the far end of the hall.

Only when she made it that far did the young princess see that the staircase had been packed solid with ice and snow. There was a rope on the floor, and a pick made of ice lying next to it. Another note was wrapped around the pick. It said simply: _Adventuring Supplies_. Anna smiled, hefting the rope across her torso, picking up the ice pick and starting to chip away at the barrier keeping her from her sister. She was going to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Ten minutes later she was rather doubting her earlier confidence. Ice was _hard_ , and all she'd done was break small chunks off a very large wall. It would take hours—literally, hours—to chip through that much ice. Then she noticed that the top of icy wall was different. Sort of blue-white instead of a frosty, dusty looking white. What would Flynn Rider have done? And she knew then exactly what she needed. There was a side table around here somewhere. So what if the carpet got a little scuffed; she was sure Kai wouldn't mind cleaning things. Although, if Gerda found out… she put the thought aside, happily chipping away at the much, much thinner ice atop the wall. It didn't take long to open a reasonably sized gap, something she could easily fit through.

It took several minutes of desperate struggling, but Anna finally managed to wedge herself, the rope, and her pick into the gap. Then she found out she was stuck, the ice just touching her hips. She gave a brief grunt of effort and disgust, striking at the ice beneath her with the pick, using it drag herself painstakingly slowly past the obstruction. Once her legs were free, she pushed off against the ice, feeling it slide out from underneath her. She felt it slide just a little too far, leaving her in the open air.

She crashed into surprisingly soft feeling stairs. Soft and cold. Snow. So perhaps Elsa had figured something like this might happen. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed at her sister's forethought. She settled on the former for now. It was nice to know how much her sister really cared. The rest of the staircase to the second floor was blocked with tumbled ice. Massive boulders—or at least large enough to make walking between them difficult—littered the staircase. Another note, handwritten, told her to look under the snow. Dropping to her knees, she felt through the slushy pile, trying to find something that didn't belong.

The red haired young princess let out a little noise of triumph. Then fright. Because whatever she had just taken hold of had moved. She carefully lifted it from the snow, afraid of what she might see. It was an arm. Small, thin, and very knobbly. It waved at her. She couldn't help but smile for a moment. So Olaf was part of this too… interesting. Cinching the rope about her waist in order to have somewhere to hold Olaf's arm, Anna found herself back at the old fort. The rope was all around her, holding her so tight to the flagpole she could hardly move. She had been stripped to the waist, and her back was on fire from the lashes she had been subjected to. She remembered night, and rain, but now it was bright, and she was dry and warm. The flagpole moved and she screamed, jumping back.

Olaf's arm was tickling her ribs. The rope was merely around her waist, not her entire body. She wasn't tied to anything—but her back was still sore. It gave the odd twinge as she stepped gingerly towards the icy boulders ahead of her. She held the ice pick in front of her, not sure what to expect. Another wall of ice deepened the mystery. So did the short ramp. At the top of that ramp rested the largest of the ice boulders. The idea here was simple, she realized—all she had to do was get the boulder down the ramp, smashing through the wall. She circled the boulder, getting her hand under it, crouching low, and gave it the strongest heave she could manage. It wouldn't budge. She needed more leverage. All she had was a short ice pick, and Olaf's arm. That might actually work, she grinned to herself.

"Sorry Olaf."

It wasn't until she fell heavily on her backside, Olaf's arm springing through the air, that she actually had time to realize what had happened. What she'd just unwittingly done—or said. It was really the fact she'd said anything at all, and if she hadn't already been seated quite so firmly she was sure she would have fallen a lot further. As it was she still managed to slide backwards down a couple of steps, letting out an exasperated sigh when she saw the icy boulder that was her current nemesis had moved less than inch.

"Co—" she got less than a word into her motivational speech before she felt her throat tighten against her. She slammed her fist against the step she was lying on, and was surprised to see a snowball roll from under the boulder. The snowball wasn't rolling normally, it was like it was off balance, something heavy inside. Sure enough, it was there. A short, thick and surprisingly heavy piece of ice. It had a slot at one end like something was supposed to fit into it, and a matching tab at the other end. She scrambled back up the stairs, retrieving Olaf's arm, using it to grab underneath the ice boulders in areas she simply couldn't reach. There were a lot more of those snowballs, and as Anna dusted them apart, she slotted the pieces of ice together carefully. In the course of ten minutes she had a long, thick staff of ice. _That_ would most definitely give her more leverage.

It did, the largest of the boulders slamming into the wall of ice with a heavy thud. Wait, what? She had expected a loud crash, like glass breaking, but a thud like that implied something had gone wrong. There was a second thud, one heavy enough to rattle the staircase. Then a third and final thud, somewhat cushioned by thick carpet, sent a sharp shock through her feet. The wall of ice had fallen, lying at steep angle, resting on top of another chunk of ice that flattened the carpet and halved the width of the hallway where it had fallen.

Another bloom of frost covered the wall before her, and beneath it Anna could just make out the corner of a page. Brushing unruly hair from her eyes she leaned closer, sweeping her hand across the frost. The note was not written in Norwegian. She cocked her head, as if looking at it sideways would enhance her understanding of the strange words. She recognized some of them—German! She knew German; or at least enough to converse convincingly with nobles of Germanic kingdoms. There were certain things she had been forced to learn as Royal Princess of Arendelle, and the languages of their closest neighbours was one of them.

Right. Left. Hallway something. Table—no, something under a table. It didn't take too long to translate the note and understand the directions she was being given. Specific directions. And under that table… was a dagger? An ice dagger? What sort of trouble had Elsa been planning on her _not_ getting in to this morning? That was when she heard the screaming, mind flashing back to how she'd raged against the injustices done to her on that night, threatening the soldiers that held her captive. But this screaming was wrong, because it sounded—well, to be honest, it sounded bored. And every so often there was a very familiar giggle.

Dagger in hand, creeping around the corner, Anna found the hall ahead of her nearly pitch black. Something glinted off the walls, and there were flashes of orange and gold in the distance. The stones of the floor were cold and hard under her feet, and she remembered clearly that she'd left two men stunned in her cell. She needed to move quickly, before anyone realized she was gone—or had time to react to all the noise she'd just made. The dagger in her hand was cold, but its weight was reassuring. She was not a defenseless prisoner, she was going to escape. Flickering shadows at the end of the hall brought her up short.

What would Flynn Rider do? She had her dagger. Rope. Olaf's arm. An ice pick—no, she'd dropped that one. There was a loose stone at the end of the hall, and an iron bar that supported some kind of bench. It only took a moment to loop the rope around the bar. She was surprised the guards hadn't yet reacted to her presence. She took the loose stone and threw it behind her, hearing a strange shattering noise. The shadows continued to flicker and move, but there were no footsteps. No sounds aside from that odd giggle, and a scream. She had to help whoever else was trapped in her with her.

She sprang into action, stumbling over the rope trap she'd just made, landing face first in something soft, white, and disturbingly alive. She gave a silent scream when she felt something twiggy pat her head, and then reach around behind her for its twin.

"Hi Anna. You're supposed to rescue me. Elsa—I mean the evil snow princess—is torturing me. She stole my nose. See?" And tied to a table in the middle of the room, was Olaf, trying to point to his missing appendage—Anna blinked, finally seeing that it was the conservatory table being used. She was in the iced over conservatory. How had she gotten there from her cell? Was she dreaming—no. Everything was too vivid, too real. If something was wrong, it was inside her. She answered Olaf, but no words came. She couldn't talk. But she could still rescue him, ice dagger cutting through his bonds.

"Oh, oh, and she said something about not being an evil mastermind, and keeping scheming little princesses out of her not secret room because there's absolutely nothing of value in—oops. I don't think I was meant to tell you that. Anyway," Olaf leaned closer to the young princess. "I think that's where she's keeping my nose. Hey, did it sound like I was really being tortured? Because the evil sno—I mean Elsa said to stop it if you got scared of me. Pssh, as if anyone could get scared of me. Come on, I'll show you where the not secret room is. She caught me in there. Am I talking too much for a snowman? Oh, anyway, let's just go. I need my nose; can't smell anything without it."

Anna had been about to point out the fact the diminutive and eternally cheerful snowman couldn't smell anything, but she stopped when she remembered she couldn't talk—and also that she might be wrong. Olaf might have a sense of smell, it wasn't impossible, right? I mean, even Olaf's impossible, so maybe it's so impossible it just makes sense? It was the most coherent thought the princess had had in some time, and she smiled. If Olaf could smell, she'd have to show him around the gardens, especially around the crocuses and the _kusymres_ and the roses and—everything, really, even if he had smelled them all before.

Letting Olaf drag her through the icy halls, Anna let his words wander through her mind. He had said something about being told to stop if she got scared, but the strangest thing was that she was _not_ scared. She probably should have been, but she wasn't. She didn't know why, but perhaps it was the fact that Olaf couldn't really be hurt by anything except a strong fire—and maybe not even then with his personal flurry. Or maybe she wasn't scared because she was no longer alone. She hadn't felt any real fear all morning—she had… gone back… twice, but she was unafraid. And because Elsa had been willing to do all this for her…

The fiery haired princess fell to her knees as the realization overtook her—understanding the risk Elsa knew she had taken. How scared must her sister have been to leave her alone? To know what that separation caused the last time? And to take the even greater risk of creating this wintry adventure, as if nothing had changed between them—Anna had no idea. No idea how much strength it must have taken. She just sat there, on her knees, for a long, unsteady moment.

"Hey, you stopped. Oh no… you're not scared of me are you? Not already? I wasn't supposed to lead you into the trap until later—oops. I mean, I'm not leading you anywhere bad. We're going right to the not secret room with the not valuable things. Yes, we are. We totally are. Hey, come on, I can't wait to see the look on your face when the trap—I mean the treasure—hits you."

Anna looked dubiously at the little snowman, the sometimes annoyingly cheerful and upbeat snow monster she'd freed from the ropes. He just bounced on both feet, waiting for her to stand so she could follow him into what was obviously going to be a poorly laid trap. Or a sudden but inevitable betrayal. Either way, she was going to be ready. The ice had changed the way the castle looked, and with all the twists and turns, she was inside the room before she realized what was happening.

"Haha! The Elsa snow princess—I mean the evil snow princess will—hey. Wait, the doors aren't meant to—oof," Olaf's voice vanished with a soft thud. Anna turned to see a wall of ice separating her from the traitorous little snowman. Of course she'd fallen for the trap, because she was looking from something complex and devious—something very Elsa—when it had been simple, and practically foolproof. She had a brief thought about Olaf being annoyed at not being able to finish his monologue, and she couldn't help but laugh.

She was trapped in the room—but which room; that was the question. It was large. Not overly so, but enough that one could easily entertain a goodly number within the chamber. It wasn't the ballroom, or the grand hall, because those were on the first floor. As her eyes adjusted to the lower light level, Anna made out a note on one wall, a good distance from the ground. There was a slab of ice beneath it, probably meant to be used as a step. She approached the ice, wary of other traps, but sure her sister would never do anything to hurt her. She took the note without incident, moving somewhere lighter to read it.

_You are in the clutches of the evil snow princess._  
There will be no escape from this icy grave.  
No fire can be struck, and no heroes will come to your aid.  
You are doomed.  
Mwahahaha.

Seriously, Elsa? the Royal Princess mentally questioned her sister's sanity, especially using that particular monolo—oh. She saw the parallels then, it was impossible not to. Her questionably sane sister had actually put her _in_ a Flynn Rider adventure. Her second favourite, but that was okay—pirates and pirate ships were hard to come by on short notice. And here Anna had to let out a girlish little giggle, the sound ringing around the room like the peal of a church bell. It was just so silly, but it made her feel so loved.

Now, in the story Flynn had found east, and that was where the secret passage was. The one he'd read about in the legends. Anna didn't know how to find east, but she saw her sister had provided for that too, a small, gold inlaid compass resting where the light could catch it. She wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but if the needle was supposed to point north, and she lined that up with the N on the compass, that meant east was to her right. At least, she hoped it did. Wait, did the red part of the needle point north, or was it the white one? Well, she'd just have to try both walls then.

Of course it was the other wall. She had yet to learn how to read a compass properly. Maybe when she could talk a little better, she'd ask Kristoff. Easier than asking Elsa and admitting she didn't want to get that hopelessly lost ever again. Oh, she had already admitted it, and it galled her, but she wanted to solve the problem herself. Just like now. There was an odd little slot down there, and from the looks of it, it would match that dagger perfectly. She slid the dagger into the keyway, and gave it a slight twist. A small chunk of ice rolled aside, revealing a tunnel she would have to crawl through. It was bright and warm at the far end of that tunnel, and she wasted no time getting through.

"Hi Joan, I—" again with the not quite talking. Anna clenched her fist. She was _going_ to do this. "I—I–I'm. Ha… aaa… py. T–to…sssss…ee. Y–yy… ou."

Then she bent double at the waist, hand resting on her thigh, panting like she'd just run a marathon. That was a lot harder than she'd thought talking could ever, ever be. She turned away from Joan, trying to hide the hot, shameful tears burning behind her eyes. She was having trouble talking to her closest companion—the one she'd confided in for almost ten years now. But the tears fell, and with them came a breathless whisper when she saw what was at the far end of this part of the portrait room.

"Elsa."

What she saw left her speechless, and the way it was framed took what was left of her breath away and refused to return it. It was her. The perfect, crystal princess. Translucent ice, crystalline blue, but shining with golden fire from within. Behind it sat the biggest window in the room, the sun streaming in from above. As she stumbled forward in a strange kind of daze, she understood that this, right here, was how Elsa saw her. How her sister had always seen her. It was a love beyond words, but in the hand of perfection something rustled in a non-existent breeze. A scrap of paper. Anna hurried to read it, and when she was done it fell from awestruck fingers.

_Anna,_

_You have always been my hero._  
You showed me what true courage is.  
I want to tell you everything; no more secrets.  
I want to know everything; no more fears.  
No more hiding our pain.  
We will be strong together this time.  
All you need to do, is ask.

* * *

"Hank?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Thank you," Elsa's voice was low. She had dismissed Søren some time ago, giving him a seal that would allow him into the castle dungeons to speak with his son. "You saw what I was about to do. I might have a couple of bruises, but that's infinitely better than having another death on my hands."

"A-another?"

She saw how Hank looked at her in disbelief. He couldn't see—or perhaps he refused to see?—just how dangerous she really was. Even with what he had just prevented, he still refused to believe she was a killer. It was actually deeply touching to the same degree it was troubling her. It was almost the same way Anna saw her. The way he had failed to phrase the question properly—or at least, how she had expected him to try and phrase such a delicate matter—was also a sign of his concern, and she was sure, some level of curiosity. She would sate that, just a little. If he was going to protect those around her from herself, her powers, he at least deserved to know why.

"Lieutenant Eriksson, do you trust me?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Do you believe me when I say that I have killed a man, deliberately?"

"I… find it difficult to believe. I do not think it impossible—I saw the display of your powers upon the fjord before the attempt on your life. However, to have murdered anoth—"

"I did not say I murdered him, lieutenant Eriksson."

"My sincerest apologies, Queen Elsa. I did not mean to imply any wrongdoing or malice aforethought with which you may or may not have acted."

"And yet you just did; and it makes you look a grand fool, Hank. A title not befitting the Queen's protector. I had honestly thought you would know better."

"I… I had no context with which to work, your majesty, only your admission to having killed a man, deliberately. You have not been in any wars so… you are right, I do look a grand fool; because you fought to rescue your sister. In that fight, in the prosecution of that action, you were _forced_ to kill. I know that you would not have wanted to, because of your pacifism, but you were indeed forced to take an action you could not then undo."

"Remarkably astute, lieutenant Eriksson. I knew I was keeping you around for something."

"Regrettably, I must dismiss myself—in protecting you it appears I may have reopened a rather recent wound. A wound received while protecting you."

"Go, Hank," Elsa gently waved him off. "The castle physician can see to you, and I will be safe in your absence. If you happen to come across Kai, please tell him that there will be no further meetings until later this afternoon. I—I have a lot on my mind right now, and I need a little time to clear it."

"I shall find Kai as soon as the physician pronounces me fit to move," Hank winced as he gave a small, perfunctory bow, then left, closing the door behind him.

Elsa let out a ragged breath, aghast at the enormity of her decision, the enormity of what she had even _thought_. That image of Anna hanging there, lifeless and empty just refused to leave her mind. Now she had sentenced one of the six accused to that fate—she didn't even know his face, but she feared her dreams when she would. Due process would be done, Justicar Kristoffersen would see to it, of that she had no doubt. It seemed a mere formality at this point, to establish their righteousness in the eyes of the law. Then there was Larsson to deal with. A face she knew, a surprisingly young face, a warm smile that hid a treacherous secret.

And then it was Anna's face again. Braids hanging limp, eyes staring lifelessly at her—accusing. Why couldn't she get it out of her head? It wasn't real. It was impossible, but the horror of that vision refused to leave her. It was like some dark affliction, if she so much of thought of any harm coming to her sister, her mind would make it real just to torment her. She recalled the nightmare, the box, and she shivered, wrapping her arms about herself. Maybe she shouldn't have let Hank leave. She was safe—but that did not mean she was alright. Not right now. Especially not when she remembered there was an enemy fleet still in the fjord, blockading her precious kingdom.

It wasn't an explosion that came from the Queen. It was much slower, a gradual collapse, a weakening, a fracture; somewhere deep within her being—perhaps even within her soul. It was enough that she saw the snowstorm whirling around her office. The snow was above her, falling on her supine form. She had no recollection of leaving her chair, falling or otherwise. She could lie there, let the snow bury her—but that wasn't going to solve anything. Instead, she would be more like her hero. She would get up, and she would damn well do something. After all the patience she had been shown, the grace that had been given her, the temperance and acceptance of who she was; it was the least she could do.

The snow cleared, and Elsa managed to form herself a new chair. Something about it felt… different. It seemed a little more solid. It was also more comfortable, and shifting her back, she felt something soft against the fabric of her dress. Under her arms as well. She ran her fingers against the arm rests. No longer solid ice, but densely packed snow. Less solid, not more—but then she looked at the frame and understood. The ice was thicker, but also clearer. It lacked the slight hint of blue it had previously possessed. This seemed more like spun glass than ice, and even though she knew it was her doing, it still took her breath away. She felt the outside of the backrest. Sure enough, her fingers traced the crest she kept subconsciously thinking of as hers. The snowflake. The very same one that had served as the foundation of her ice palace.

The new version of her chair moved just like the old one, it just felt better to sit in it, and she wondered at that. Why had her subconscious changed it so? What had changed so suddenly within her? Why had it not changed after the dreams? After her actions at the fort? Or had it been changing all the while, and she'd never noticed it? Never paid attention to it until now? Or was it in response to her most recent actions; to her decision? She knew something had changed, but she was unsure as to what. Attempting to solve the puzzle was like chasing shadows in the firelight, her thoughts flitting around just out of reach. A lot of them currently centered around Anna, and all Elsa wanted right now was a warm hug from her younger sister; something to tell her everything was going to be okay, despite the decision she'd been forced to make.

She was not going to add loneliness to the list of problems she was currently facing, so she set out to find Anna, and while doing so, clean up any mess that had been left in the halls on the far side of the castle. It was going to take some time to clean up, but she'd promised Kai earlier that she would take care of it herself. Her plan, her mess, her responsibility. Which had reluctantly included any damage Olaf might cause as well. After her initial objection Kai had given her a soft smile, and gently informed her of exactly what had happened to the southwest corridor when Olaf had been chased by Sven. In painstaking detail. While she had gone in to town to find lieutenant Eriksson. Suitably chastised, she had agreed to Kai's terms. As Queen it would have been so easy to simply order him to do it, but she felt rather bad after he finished that little explanation. She'd had no idea her little snowman could cause that much chaos—it was worse than a ten year old Anna with a new bike…

Now she was going to find the aforementioned sister, who _should_ have completed the adventure some time ago. Assuming she had woken up somewhere near her usual hour. Rolling slowly through the halls, Elsa began the process of dispelling her magic, sending enough of it away that only a small dusting of snowflakes remained on most surfaces. The staircase up to the third floor was stubborn, but it did have a lot of ice, which became a lot of snow, which became a very large mess as it began to fall through the banister. Elsa sighed, using a fraction of her power to redirect and disperse the snow.

"I didn't even get to say that big speech you gave me," Olaf lamented as he rounded the corner nearest Elsa. "I mean, I didn't start it right, then I started it again, and before I finished the doors closed and Anna was on the other side."

"It's okay Olaf," Elsa moved forwards to pat her snowman on the head. "You did just fine. Anna wasn't scared?"

"Nah, she's brave. She rescued me like you said she would. Oh, and I totally didn't tell her about the treasure or the secret room or to not look in there. I didn't show her how not to get there either. Wait… did I do something wrong?"

"No, Olaf. You were meant to tell her those things."

"Then why did you tell me not—oh, I know why," the little snowman frowned. "Umm, do I? I think I do. Why don't you tell me?"

"It was a game Olaf. More like a play, actually. Think of yourself as an actor on a stage."

"Oh… wait, I was meant to be acting? I should have used my _Acting Voice_. It sounds so much better. Wait, wait, where was the stage—if I'm an actor, where's my stage?"

"I've created a monster," the words were out of her mouth before she could so much as think them.

"No you didn't," Olaf assured her, patting her leg. "Oh, wait, maybe"—and he stretched the word out longer than she ever thought possible—"is Marshmallow a monster? I mean, I know I'm a snow monster, or snow man, or abominable something or other that your big servant man calls me when he thinks I can't hear him—but is Marshmallow a _monster_ , monster? Oh, sure, he's big and mean and kinda really, really scary, but he was just trying to protect you, right?"

"We're going to go back there one day," Elsa spoke softly. "And then we can find out together."

"Can we bring Anna, and Sven, and Kristoff?"

"We wouldn't go without them. And Kristoff has your nose."

"No…"

Elsa just smiled as the little snowman made a horrified face, dashing towards the stairs. With Olaf able to reassemble himself, it was time to find Anna and help her do the same—wherever she was right now. The castle interior was deceptively large, and if people did not want to be found—as, at times, she had not, when venturing from her room—there were ways to ensure privacy. Secret passages, hidden alcoves, quiet sunlit corners obscured from the halls. The castle of Arendelle had all of those. But Anna was unlikely to hide, in fact, at this hour, she was likely to be sneaking into the kitchens, annoying someone, stealing little tidbits before lunch. And if Anna wasn't in the kitchens, well, Elsa knew of some not so very hidden chocolate that could be conveniently had…

* * *

"Frederik, you had best see this with your own eyes," and Nikolaus handed his brother the gilded telescope. The one he had received as a gift for his elevation to commodore in the Southern Navy.

"Weselton?" disbelief shaded the Crown Prince's voice. "I see the _Impure Thought_ , the _Injustice_ , and I have to assume the _Independent Trader_ is their flag."

"Look at the fjord, Rik, anything wro—"

"It's frozen solid. But the king of France said the Queen had managed to thaw it."

"So was he wrong?"

"No…" Frederik handed the telescope back to his brother. "Have we stumbled across a blockade?"

"The was my first thought too, Rik, but look at those ships. Ten of the line; Second- and Third-Rates. You don't need that many ships to block the mouth of the fjord. Maybe to attack the coastal fort—up there—but that would mean you wanted to do more than just cut trade."

"As the Queen purportedly did with Weselton. We will not intervene in this matter, Commodore Westergard. Not until we have established the intent and disposition of all the parties involved. Have the men prepare a launch, I shall be giving our, ahem… friend, the Duke, a visit."

"You know how unwise this is, how much father would object to me letting you go?"

Frederik touched the scar running down the side of his face. "Would you try and stop me—again?"

"This time is different, Rik. Just be careful."

"Then maybe I should borrow that batman of yours."

"Just go, before I change my mind. I'm keeping to the spirit of father's order here, if not the letter. Take a squad with you, in case the Duke tries anything."

"I wonder if he can swim…"

Nikolaus sighed. He hated it when his brother was like this, but he was the peacemaker in the family, and as crown prince he could overrule anything but a direct order from their father if he so wished. And even if the order to keep him safe had, indeed, come from the king, Nikolaus knew his brother would still most likely ignore it. Five years on, and he had more than proved he could be a better man, but he still felt the need to atone for the incident. Taking the locket out from beneath his navy doublet, Nikolaus flicked it open, smiling sadly at the miniature of their mother hidden within. Something to commemorate her by. As his brother stepped aboard the launch, Nikolaus whispered quietly to the wind, gently closing the locket.

"Watch over him. He still needs you."


	47. Little Talks

Sitting on the low, stone bench in the prison cell, Søren buried his head in his hands. Even if these were not the last words he shared with Konrad, they would still be close. But he had to know, he had to understand. Why—what had possessed his son to join that mob. What was so powerful that it had swayed him from the path Søren had tried to set him on throughout his life. Or had it been something more recent, Søren's absences, late nights, his obsession with making a gift for the Queen. For Elsa. All because he wanted to try and fill the hole Sylvi's death had left in their lives.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, but he lowered his hands, wanting to look his son in the eye. Konrad looked at the floor, shying away from his gaze.

"I was trying to protect you." That made little sense to Søren. He had not actively sought Elsa's company the few times they had met outside of the council, but he had never felt threatened; never felt he was in a situation he would be unable to handle. Even being mildly iced on that day had been nothing more than an inconvenience. He might have said something regrettable about her father, but Elsa had done nothing to threaten him, to place him in any real danger. A small fright, on occasion, but nothing malicious—and nothing like the treatment Marshal Gerhardt was often on the receiving end of.

"Konrad, I am quite capable of protecting myself—and that you would think the Queen—that you would think _Elsa_ —capable of harming anyone deliberately shows you are not the judge of character I thought you were."

"Don't you see, dad?" Konrad's voice was firm. " _Deliberately_. The most dangerous things she did were all accidents. She froze her sister's heart—and it was a miracle she thawed anything. What if that had been you if you got into a fight? What if it had been me?"

"You think I don't know the risks?"

"I think you don't care. You never cared. That's why mom—"

Søren gave his son a pointedly disapproving look, but Konrad pressed on anyway. He had nothing left to lose. That knowledge cut the former blacksmith deeper than any blade he could have forged.

"—why mom died."

"This not about Sylvi, or me, or even Queen Elsa, Konrad. This is about you. Why did you think I needed protecting?"

"I told you, because the witch-que—"

"Her name is _Elsa!_ "

"Fine then—Elsa is dangerous. Her magic is lethal. She killed before, what's to stop her from doing it again?"

His heart growing heavy, Søren saw the truth behind his son's words. It was only one way of seeing the world, but that didn't mean it was wrong. In truth, he himself might have seen Elsa in much the same light if he had not dealt with her personally. So few people knew the true beauty of their Queen. Not her looks, but her heart. Her strength of character and force of will. Things about her he hated, because they would cost him his son; but also things that he could not help but respect. His hatred was an empty, hollow thing when he next spoke.

"She already did, Konrad. But it wasn't her magic that killed yo—"

"What?"

"It was her laws. I–I'm sorry Konrad. I wish I could change things. I wish you could have seen the good in her."

"I was… I was just trying to protect you." Søren could clearly see the disbelief on his son's face. Could see that Konrad knew, in a way, what was to come, but he had yet to accept that it was through his own actions, his own crimes. Then Søren remembered Justicar Kristoffersen that night, six years past. He remembered his own disbelief. Her body, and the funeral. The pyre above the oceans—as traditional as she had been. Because just placing her in the earth as dictated by the Divine did not carry the same respect; not to him. He wondered sadly whether his son would be allowed so much as a headstone.

"The best way to protect me was to kill Elsa?"

"Yes."

"Are you mad!?" the former blacksmith exhaled heavily, tempering his voice to a more even tone. "Why didn't you just ask to _talk_ to me?"

"Dad, you were so busy in that workshop of yours—and when you get like that you ignore everything."

"I would have made time for you. You just had to _ask_."

"I did ask." Søren's face fell. He recalled nothing of this. It only made him feel worse, more of a failure as a father. "I left you a note, dad. Next to the bed so you'd see it when you woke up. But you didn't come home. So I left one in the workshop, on the drawing of that wheelchair—it was going to be hers, wasn't it?"

"It was. I—" and then Søren remembered the note. He'd brushed it aside because it covered some measurements he needed. He'd paid it no mind, assuming it just one of his own annotations to the design. It might still be under one of the benches in his workshop. If only he had stopped to think. If only he had taken a little more time out of his day to talk to his son—none of this would have happened. He felt Konrad's arms around him before he realized he was crying. "I'm sorry; I'm so, so sorry."

"It'll be okay, you're on the council. It's not like the wit—not like Queen Elsa would sentence me like all those other traitors…" and here the council's head guildsman said nothing. Remained still and silent. He found just enough strength to embrace his son—but not enough to talk. "I… dad? Is that why you're here?"

Silence descended on the cell when Søren gave a small nod, father and son embracing for what felt like the final time. Søren knew it would not be the last time, not until… the end… but the moment seemed to have a grim finality to it. A darkness not easily overcome. He might be able to make another plea for leniency, but it was unlikely to be any more successful than the first. When all was said and done, when the end came, he would have lost the two people he cared most about in the entire world. All because of his failures as a husband and a father. He couldn't protect anyone. Elsa deserved better.

"I'm sorry Konrad. I–I can't change her mind. You willingly joined that little band of assassins. You were willing to try and kill the Queen. She's going to put you on trial like the rest of them. Like that weasel Larsson. Like all those other men. You… you were better than that. I thought I raised you better than that."

Konrad patted his father on the back as he spoke. "It's not your fault dad. It's… I'm scared. Scared of dying. I don't want to die. I… I…"

Those were the last coherent words Søren heard his son speak for a long time. Everything devolved into wracking sobs and the occasional bout of violence, all of which the former blacksmith weathered with a stony face. Here was his son, sentenced to death as a traitor, awaiting the formality of a trial before he hung from the gallows with five other men. Assuming the council, the Queen, and the palace guards allowed Larsson to live long enough to even see the gallows. Assuming he did nothing else to try and save his son. Anything he did would set him against the Queen. Forever.

Søren gently raised his son from the floor, pressing Konrad into a sitting position on the stone bench, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders. He had a lot he wanted to say, but now was not the time—he needed time to sort through everything he needed to say; sort it against what he wanted to say. Then he would have to find Bishop Gudbrand. But for now, at least, he could give Konrad some much needed hope. It was the least he could do.

"I still love you. You are still my son, and I will see you again."

* * *

Anna was sitting on a small bench in a sunlit alcove when Elsa found her. She seemed positively radiant, a subtle glow about her entire form, sunlight turning her hair into a fiery halo. Elsa felt her breath catch in her throat. Was there no one more beautiful on this Earth? And to her, there was not. Especially when Anna gave her a small wave and a nervous little smile.

"Hi." It was barely above a whisper, but it made Elsa's heart soar. Her sister had spoken. Freely. Without needing to push herself. It was only a single word, but it was progress beyond measure because Anna had let her see it. She beamed up at her sister with unabashed pride. Even though the thing she wanted most in the world right now was her sister's warmth, Elsa held herself back—what she had been forced to decide was too terrible. The way she'd reached that conclusion too horrifying to contemplate again. But Anna knew her too well.

She felt Anna's hand against her shoulder, holding her back. Then that hand lifted her chin so their gazes met, and Elsa saw the determination burning behind her sister's eyes, saw the toll this effort was taking on her.

"T–te… ell. Mmmm… eee."

"I'm scared, Anna. I–I had to decide something terrible," Elsa felt the tears burning behind her eyes beginning to fall. "People are going to die. Not in battle, but still by my hand. By the order of the Queen—it's so hard, Anna. The law has to be obeyed, even if it doesn't feel right. Six people, Anna. Six, by the laws of Arendelle, and so, by my hand. The mob that Hank protected me from. They're all traitors… all of them have to suffer the full punishment under the law…"

Elsa saw her sister's fist clenching at the thought of people trying to harm her. Or perhaps at the thought of what she had been forced to decide. It was nothing compared to the anguish she felt for having made that decision—and for now being forced to live with it. Knowing that it would likely not be the last such decision she had to make. It was such a great burden that it had to be shared, but she didn't want to risk Anna's newfound strength for it. Then her sister gestured for her to continue, and Elsa couldn't stop after the first word had escaped her lips.

"Konrad. Søren's son, was one of the men that attacked me. I can't treat him any differently from the others, even if he is the son of a councillor. Maybe… maybe it's because of that. The punishment has to fit the crime. No one should be able to avoid that. Not even me, not even… not even you. But I could never, ever do that to you Anna. I asked myself if I could, and I failed—because I would always save you. Always protect you. No matter what you did. No matter how much you hurt me. I would always save you. You mean too much to me for me to ever lose you."

Before she knew what was happening Elsa felt an arm around her shoulders, and a warm cheek brushing against hers. A few flyaway strands of fiery hair tickled her lips. There was a slight sniffle from behind her, and all of a sudden the embrace was over. Anna was sitting in front of her once more, arm held out loosely, keeping her at bay, but with a warm, sad smile on her lips. Elsa understood. It was all her sister could bear to give right now.

"It means more to me right now than you could possibly know," Elsa smiled at her sister. "That you have the courage, even after everything, to give me one little hug. Just because it looked like I needed it"—Anna was nodding slowly here—"and I did. I needed it more than I knew. We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

The younger of the royal sisters closed her eyes, smiled, and gave a little nod. "Ssstrr… ooo… ong. T-to… gethhh… errr."

Elsa returned her sister's smile. "Is–is it bad if I say hearing you struggle to talk is the most painful thing I've heard all day?"

Silence.

"I… I admire your strength, your determination to start talking again, even if it hurts. But it hurts me too, Anna. I know you probably never wanted me to say something like that, but I said no more lies. No more fears. I'm afraid of hurting you—still afraid, even with only my words. Maybe I'm just being foolish," Elsa looked away, not wanting to see the hurt she knew would be on her sister's face. "Maybe I should just leave."

"No."

Elsa looked up, and Anna smiled at her, patting the spot on the bench beside her.

"Ssstaaay," the red haired young princess exhaled heavily, patting the cushion next to her again. "Heeere." She drew in a deep breath, repeating herself more clearly, fire in her eyes. "Stay. Here."

Taking the hint the third time her sister patted that cushion, Elsa moved closer, transferring herself from her chair to the bench, making a small backrest of ice to hold her up. Soon the older of the royal sisters felt something pressing against her right arm, something falling across her back, something soft resting against her shoulder. And all of it was warm. If Elsa was winter, then her sister was summer—or maybe spring, given how full of energy she always seemed to be.

"Warm." A breathless whisper, and Anna pressed into her side a little more.

Elsa's arm was already around her sister's shoulders. But this time Anna didn't shiver, she didn't shy away, she didn't freeze. This time she rested her head on Elsa's shoulder and gave a contented sigh. It wasn't really a hug, but it counted. Elsa thought she had some idea why Anna was allowing it to continue—because she had initiated it, by leaning against Elsa; and more, because she was in control of it. A single, simple movement and she could be away from her sister, even if Elsa didn't want to break that contact. It was love unconditional, tempered by a diminishing fear.

Elsa gently rested her head against her sister's. "I wish it could be like this all the time."

* * *

Late in the afternoon Justicar Hanne Kristoffersen stood before the Queen of Arendelle. He had just finished outlining the case against the traitorous mob that had been part of the assassination attempt, along with the handful of malcontents he and Gudbrand had caught earlier that same day. It all came down to Larsson, on whom they had enough evidence to bury at the bottom of the ocean. Evidence against the others was more circumstantial, but they had appeared to have every intention of attempting to slay the Queen after their gunman failed. Only the quick thinking of the nearby citizens had prevented that tragedy—as lieutenant Erikson's had against the gunman.

"Speaking of which," Kristoffersen continued. "Had you planned on perhaps a small ceremony thanking the good lieutenant for saving your life?"

"Just for doing what I asked him to do?"

"I—" the Justicar paused for a moment, considering. "Yes. He was doing his job as royal protector, but I think it would do the people good to see their Queen acknowledging that."

"I shall take that idea under advisement, Justicar Kristoffersen," the Queen carefully manoeuvered the conversation back on course. "Now, we were speaking of the men that made the attempt on my life?"

"Yes, we were. You already know that Konrad Sørenson is one of the perpetrators, and one of the things I wished to ask was how you would be treating him in comparison to the other men."

The Queen's reply surprised the Justicar, but he was impressed with her conviction and reasoning. "Konrad Sørenson will be treated no differently from the other men involved in the assassination attempt. He joined them willingly, and I am sure that while he may now regret his actions, at the time he would have been perfectly willing to try and kill me. That his father holds a position on my council should not protect him from the consequences of his actions. In fact, it makes it _more_ important that my citizens see justice is done, however much I might hate having to issue such an order."

"Very astute, your majesty. I have always thought that those of high station should be held to account just the same as those below them. The law is the law; it should not change whether you are a peasant or a king. Or queen. We—you—may have to ask Søren to step down as head guildsman on the council because of this. I have heard only rumours so far, but if this spreads through town—as it is likely to by the time of the trial—then the scandal would be absolute, and his reputation would be so blackened it might prove untenable to allow him to continue on the council, not matter how pure his intentions."

Kristoffersen watched the Queen as she processed all this, an invisible weight seeming to settle across her shoulders, grave disappointment shading her face. He couldn't blame her, he'd felt much the same upon discovering Konrad was one of the attackers. Søren might not have been a friend, but he was still someone respectable, someone who had done good works in the past, and might do so again. He had earned his place on the council through merit, not royal appointment. It would be a shame to see him cast out, but the choice might well be taken from them.

"If guildsman Søren steps down, it will be of his own accord," Queen Elsa's voice was firm; it brooked no argument.

"Understood, your majesty," Kristoffersen gave a slight bow. "Is there anything more you wished to discuss with me?"

"No. You may leave, Justicar Kristoffersen. I believe I shall retire for the remainder of the day. It has been most taxing, both for myself, and for my sister."

"Of course, your majesty. May… may I enquire as to her highness's health?"

"You may. You should be pleased to hear that she is recovering from her ordeal at the hands of those men. My sister is a most courageous young woman."

"I have no doubt; and it is good to hear that she is recovering well. I shall take my leave then," Kristoffersen bowed again, and left.

He still wondered just how well the young princess was recovering. Aside from falling asleep outside the council chamber the previous day, no one but Queen Elsa had seen her since their return. No one outside the castle. Even her pet ice harvester had not been seen in the town. It almost seemed like the gates would shut again at any moment, but the Queen was not unwilling to entertain visitors, and even though she had called an end to the meeting yesterday, she made sure to see each of the councillors personally today. Princess Anna had not been seen again, but he had no doubt she was still in the castle. It did seem, however, that Queen Elsa was reluctant to let anyone near her sister. Vanja Ostberg-Lang's warning to Søren the previous day made sense on its own—but had it been triggered by something more, something the rest of the council did _not_ know?

Justicar Kristoffersen let these thoughts simmer in his subconscious, recalling how protective he had recently become of his own family—something he had thought less likely given his age. But Sigrid was not yet so advanced in years as he was, and young Siri was as healthy as any other babe of the summer. Maybe the Queen was merely trying to protect her sister. A little overprotective, right now, but that was to be expected, he supposed. The last time she had let the Royal Princess out of the castle she had been kidnapped by Weselton. The Justicar could easily see the Queen's reasoning, and he smiled. Sisterly protectiveness, family ties. That had to be it; queen Elsa protecting her own. Just as her father had.

* * *

The crossbow made hunting easy. Especially with the fact he could hardly use his left arm and had to walk with a limp. His knowledge as a physician—he was now fairly sure he had been trained as one, as well as some kind of soldier—had led him to several useful plants. Something for numbing pain. Another that could be made into a poultice to speed healing. And some, he knew, that made good seasoning for deer meat. Reindeer venison. They were native to Arendelle and its surrounding lands. Native and plentiful.

After killing it, he realized he'd had no idea how to prepare it. Removing the fur and skin made sense. It was a lot messier than he'd expected, and he'd found a nearby river to bathe in to clean the blood off his hands. He'd tried washing it out of his clothes to no avail. He had tried to keep the hide in one piece, recalling something about tanning racks. He knew he'd never been a serious hunter, otherwise he would have known how to field dress a large carcass without the difficulties he'd had. The skin and fur hung in ragged strips, and when he'd used the dagger to remove the meat from the dead animal's bones, he'd clearly missed something. He just didn't know what.

All that was why he was currently cooking rather rough looking strips of reindeer meat over a poor excuse for a fire in the back of the cave he'd found earlier in the day. There was no fur, and no leavings in or near the cave, so he thought it safe to use as a home, at least for now. He would cook the meat as best he could, and then, with some salt he'd rescued from the fortress—because his former friends were unlikely to need it anymore—he planned to preserve the meat he didn't eat tonight. Supplies to keep him going, because he had no idea how long it would take him to heal enough to be able to leave this place, to trek further through the forest.

Sitting against the wall of the cave, he ate slowly, savouring the tenderness of the meat. He knew he wanted to atone for his past—but attempting an apology anywhere within Arendelle was likely to redeem him only through death. He needed a better plan. A purpose. Something to do, to give his life value. The first thing to decide on was a name. He could do that right here. Something simple. Easy to remember. Something that would define him. He recalled a sound, a 'P', or maybe a 'B'. Per; no. Bjarne; no. Pål; still no. Bosse; maybe. Bo. That would do. No, not enough. Búi—to live. And he had lived; for what purpose he did not know, but he lived, and that was enough to define him for now. Búi, to live, to be alive. It would serve. It felt good to have a name again. Búi. That would be his name, until he found another, or his old name found him.


	48. Moving Forward

Marshal Markus Gerhardt smiled coldly, placing his forces upon the map of Arendelle and its harbour. The fort's heavy guns, could, with skilled gunners, reach out to attack the Weseltonian fleet anchored in the fjord. The angle was not great, and few guns would be able to bear, but it might be enough to cause the level of confusion his forces would need. There was also the great bombard, a relic from before the Napoleonic wars. It hadn't been fired in anger—or at all—in more than thirty years. His predecessor in the post of Marshal had told him as much. A risky prospect, but things were now desperate enough to consider such actions. And the Queen refused to use her magic this time. It would have made things so much simpler—but she would have to be pushed again, to those dark places, and Gerhardt had no wish to repeat his performance of three days past.

Instead, he was looking for alternatives. He had even briefly considered parley, given just how overwhelming the force involved was, more than double Arendelle's available guns, assuming all of the fort's guns could be brought to bear. And also assuming anything made it safely out of the harbour under the fusillade of Weselton's cannons. The attack therefore would have to be launched at night, over the ice, with the Royal Marines leading the charge. The artillery corps might also be able to help, if he could find a way to limber the guns across the ice, without using carts or horses. He tapped a finger impatiently against his desk. Artillery was unlikely to sway this battle anyway. Sharpshooters and canny tactics could do far more damage.

Perhaps if the enemy fleet were to mysteriously catch fire… that would certainly work. Fewer prizes, of course, but it would also send a clear message to Weselton—their ships were not worth taking as prizes. A carefully calculated insult, and one which they would be unable to redress, with most of their fleet lying at the bottom of Arendelle's fjord. Gerhardt began to wonder how much Weselton's merchant fleet was suffering, given that more than half of their warships were blockading his kingdom. _Elsa's_ kingdom, he corrected himself quickly. He would have to arrange an audience with her in the morning, to discuss this change of plans.

He looked at the map he had set up, the disposition of the forces, relative strengths, capacity for movement. There was no way Arendelle's military could win a direct confrontation. Subterfuge and underhanded tactics might level the playing field—and he was hoping they would do more—but they were also likely to earn some reproach from their allies. Being the honourable nation was sometimes as much a curse as a blessing, but he was fairly sure Arendelle's reputation would survive intact—as would the Queen's, especially once it was revealed that this was his plan, not hers.

From the locked upper draw of his desk, Gerhardt withdrew a small volume, bound in leather, translated from Manchu into French by one Jean Joseph Marie Amiot. The author of the original work had lived some five hundred years before the birth of the Messiah, in the Orient. Sun Tzu. This small book was the most valuable thing Marshal Gerhardt owned, a rarity, full of ancient wisdoms and intriguing proverbs. To the man that had written this book, war was seen not only as conflict, but as a strange kind of art. He opened the book, and began reading. _Invincibility lies in the defense; the possibility of victory in the attack_. He also remembered the old master's mantra from the beginning of the work. _All warfare is based on deception_.

Deceptive he would be, with his regent's permission. The cost could prove high, but the diversion would allow the true plan time to work. A diversion, with the guns of the fort. A handful of men would be required to crew those few guns that could reach. Flaming shot, to add another layer of confusion to the enemy fleet. But if they had few enough sentries out, why tip their hand to the attack? Stealth was key, if they could board those ships unseen, take the flag while the officers slept… while everyone onboard except the watch keepers slept. No need for fiery destruction—satisfying as it might have been. No need for a great battle. No need for sabotage—though that remained an option for enhanced coercion. All they needed was to take the flag officers from their wardroom. Ransom them back to Weselton. If the Duke so happened to be on board, leading the fleet… Gerhardt wondered just how well Queen Elsa would be able to keep her anger in check.

* * *

Staring at the short, arrogant man in front of him, Crown Prince Frederik Westergard found it hard to keep a disapproving sneer off his face. Of all the people that could lead a fleet to service a blockade, the Duke of Weselton had sent _this_ incompetent? If Arendelle had attacked they might have been able to take the fleet, even with their deficit in guns. And if a sharpshooter just happened to kill this annoying little man, well, the rest of the fleet might have given that shooter a hero's welcome. But Frederik kept all of that to himself, forcing a smile as he greeted the man.

"Good afternoon, Count Langenberg. I see you managed to salvage the fleet."

"Ah, Prince Westergard. Do you wish for matching scars?" the Count's tone was acid. "I could easily arrange for Gunnar here to give you one."

Frederik stared at the mountain of a man standing next to the Count. Bodyguards. He ignored them. The half-dozen marines with him served the same purpose—and one of them probably had as much brainpower as the pair behind Langenberg put together. The Duke's bodyguards at least might be open to reason, but not these brutes. Frederik sighed heavily, motioning for his men to stand down.

"Are we not friends here, Langenberg?" a calculated insult. "I wish to parley on behalf of Westergard. As Crown Prince I do hold that power."

"Remind me again why I should listen to the son of man that bred heirs faster than rabbits?"

"Because if you don't"—Frederik pulled the count up by his oversized lapels so they could look at each other eye to eye—"we get to see how well the Duke's protege can swim. Oh, and if your gorillas here float."

"You are not endearing yourself to me, Westergard."

"I never intended to. I just wanted to see how quickly your men reacted."

The Count whirled, and Frederik laughed as the crew behind him feigned nonchalance while continuing with their assigned duties. Even his bodyguards had been slow, their advance checked by the marines.

"This is an outrage!" the count turned a fascinating shade of red. Anger and disbelief filled his voice.

"Only because you are so easily needled, Count Langenberg. Now, do you wish to parley or not."

"If you wish to help us retrieve our men from Arendelle. They were taken hostage by the witch-queen during her latest flirtation with the Infernal."

Frederik doubted that, but he was willing to play along in case the Count's fumbling gave him the information he so desired. And through the length of their discourse, Frederik discovered everything he needed to know to make a decision on who to help. The troubles in Weselton, the missing troops in Arendelle, a vague plot involving the Royal Princess, and a grim reminder of the power Arendelle's current ruler truly wielded. Frederik also knew, aside from the troubles in Weselton, that every word he had been told was a lie, meant to garner sympathy such that he would commit his forces to a temporary alliance in order to 'search' Arendelle. He knew that such a search was a thinly veiled hint at an invasion force—and the Count had more than enough men to manage that.

Standing, sliding his chair back, Frederik turned to leave. He stopped halfway around when he heard Langenberg's voice. The forced sweetness in that voice all but dripped on the rug covering the deck. "Leaving so soon?"

"I thought maybe I'd show you the same hospitality you showed me when we last met." Frederik turned, slowly. The Count's left hand rose into view, aiming an antique flintlock pistol at the prince. He seemed very talkative, mostly because Frederik didn't have a witty rejoinder ready while being held at gunpoint.

"My men?" Nikolaus had told him to bring a squad. He didn't want to be responsible for any harm coming to them. He didn't want more deaths on his conscience.

"Were easily subdued, Gunnar and Hult may not be the sharpest of instruments, but they take direction well. And the crew of the _Trader_ are fiercely loyal to me, and me alone." So the little performance earlier had been a ruse. That bordered on true cunning—not something he would have attributed to the Count. Apparently the short, annoying protege of the Duke was capable of learning. Of course, a crew loyal only to the Count might cause some dissent with the man grooming him.

"I wonder if the Duke knows about _that_ little detail…" Frederik couldn't resist the jab.

"Oh, to the contrary, Prince Westergard—he helped me select them. It really is such a pity you didn't wish to help us."

"I never said 'no'."

"It was written all over your face. And I do hope they send an ill-fated rescue party for you. It would be such a tragedy for your father to learn that you died while attempting to escape our custody. Then again, he has enough sons that I'm sure someone will fill the shoes you leave behind rather quickly."

"Langenberg, a moment, if I may—you do have me as a captive audience right now."

"Fine, I shall allow you to say something before I escort you to the brig. Make it brief, I'm impatient to see you behind _my_ bars."

"How will you convince King Christian that you were justified in taking me prisoner?"

"You boarded an enemy vessel in a time of war. I could just easily have had you shot or hanged—but then you wouldn't be nearly so useful anymore."

"You are not at war with the Southern Isles."

"No; but your interests seem clearly aligned with those Arendelle, and we _are_ at war with them."

"I wonder… did you bother informing them of that fact?"

"Given that their Queen will have been dead for four days now, I sincerely hope they have managed to figure that out. Although it appears her infernal gifts did not cease with her death. A shame, really, that Arendelle should be so trapped by the hubris of their queen."

Frederik felt his body going weak. Weselton had killed Queen Elsa. Despite the Count's usual incompetency in most matters—and especially those of a naval bent—he did know how to select the right men for the job. If he had wanted the Queen dead, those men likely would have killed her the next day—after receiving their orders, guards or no. Ruthlessness was a trait the Count favoured above all else. There would be no redemption for the Southern Isles. Frederik tried schooling his face into an impassive mask, but Langenberg caught him.

"I saw that, Prince Westergard. So you _did_ have plans aligned with those of Arendelle's late ruler," the mocking remorse in Count Langenberg's tone only served to twist the knife. "Such a shame. I'm sure you would have made a spectacular couple. Maybe one of the men in the brig will settle for your pretty face instead…"

"If he lives long enough to lay a hand on me," Frederik swore darkly to himself.

"Speak up. It's unbecoming of a prince to mumble like that."

"I'll make sure you pay for this, Langenberg. I swear it by the name of Lysanne van Altena. Your downfall will be at _my_ hand."

"Empty threats. But I'll make sure the guards give you an extra bread ration—to keep your strength up. I want you escaping so I can shoot you."

* * *

_I, Crown Princess Elsa, Heiress Apparent of the line of Arendelle, do consign myself to oblivion on this night, knowing that the world shall find itself a better place for my absence._

Elsa reread the first line of the note she had asked Kai to fetch for her. The note she had written three years ago, some time before her parents had departed on their ill-fated voyage to Corona. The note that was her greatest shame, and darkest secret—now that her powers were outed. The note she was going to show Anna, if she thought herself strong enough to read it. The note she was being very, very careful not to crease or ice or damage in any way.

_I know that I am a monster, cursed with this magic. Born with this curse, in a cruel twist of fate. I very nearly killed Anna once, and as I feel the magic growing stronger within my breast, I cannot again risk the life of my sister. I am losing control more often. It is smaller than before, but I fear the day it is not; the day when everything should break loose, and all those nearby would pay the price for my folly._

_I am sorry Papa, and I am sorry for you, too, Mom. Sorry that on your return you will be greeted with such tragic news as the death of your eldest daughter. I am sorry for everything I have caused, and for the burden I have so long placed upon the kingdom. For ten long years have I suffered at the hands of fate, always fearing the day when I would accidentally hurt one of you if you so much as tried to touch me. The fear has always been there; my constant companion in the darkness. Know this, at least: I do not blame you. I never have. You raised me as your daughter, and far better than I had any right to expect after what I did to Anna. You showed mercy, and compassion. I wish you could know that I am doing this because I love you—I am so afraid of hurting you, but my love is strong, so I will make the ultimate sacrifice to protect those I love._

_Anna will not understand. I hope, one day, she knows how much I loved her. That all this was to protect her from my growing powers. Tell her that seeing her was always the brightest moment of my days. Tell her that she is strong. Please tell her that my final thoughts will be of her; that for as long as she was nearby, she saved me, without ever knowing. Now, I perform this sacrifice to save her. I will likely go to hell for the manner of my death—but I will gladly suffer that eternal torment if my sister is kept safe. Even from me._

_The world must be protected from monsters. I know that is what I truly am; but I am also a monster with a conscience. I do not wish to be responsible for causing any more pain. For causing death. I know how close Anna came to dying that night. I do not wish to hurt anyone like that ever again, but the risk of an accident is simply too great. I will be unable to control my powers forever—and if my sanity should ever be called into question, if it should ever slip, then the result could mean the death of everyone I love. I will not take that risk. Not now. Not when I know my sister could become a much better person than I ever will be. I am doing this to keep her safe. To keep everyone safe. The monster with a conscience._

_To the matter of my possessions, to my mother I leave all the jewels she saw fit to bestow upon me; to my father I leave the royal seal with which I was gifted for my sixteenth birthday, and the contents of the upper-right drawer of my vanity. The key can be found secured to the inside top of my wardrobe. Of all my other worldly possessions, I bequeath everything that I own to my sister, Princess Anna, Heiress Presumptive of the line of Arendelle. I hope in some way that this gift may ease the pain of my passing for her._

_I ask nothing else of you, except that you protect my sister, and help nurture her into the amazing queen I know she someday will be. Know that wherever I may be, I will be watching over you. I will try to protect you. You will always be in my prayers—what few I have left. I leave this missive as my last farewell to a world, and to a family, that treated a monster far better than she ever deserved. I love you, and though I know it is returned, I hope that someday you will be able to forget me, and the way I chose to leave this world. It is better this way._

_Farewell._

_With all my heart,  
Elsa_

Finishing the note, Elsa let out a slow, ragged breath. This was her immaculate penmanship, unchanged, over three years old. She recognized that version of her signature, the formal cursive, finished with a full flourish beneath. Not neat and immaculate, but smooth and flowing, her one nod towards art. She might even have used calligraphy, had she thought it would be more personal. She let out another breath, noticing the rime ice on the walls, the frost on the windows, and the light dusting of snow hanging in the air. She sincerely hoped Anna would understand—would be able to understand—but she also knew where the note would go if Anna was not strong enough to read it tonight. Kai would keep it safe. Elsa could not trust herself not to try and destroy it somehow. It was risky even to hold it, but Anna deserved the truth. Every painful truth that had been hidden between them. Elsa hoped for the same in return.

She knew the note was likely to change things. She didn't want it to; she hoped it wouldn't; but she also feared it might ruin everything. She rubbed her cheek—just thinking like that was likely to earn her a slap from Anna, no matter how improper. There was more, of course, and when Anna asked, she was willing to explain everything, down to the last detail… even down to the attempt she had made on that night, stopped only by Kai. The only thing more painful she could think to talk about would be the full detail of Anna's death from a frozen heart—something she was not yet willing to face, even though she now knew some of the particulars, especially the agony of the cold.

Carefully setting such thoughts aside, Elsa left her office, searching the castle for her sister. She wouldn't have to go far, she knew. Anna was likely in one of their bedrooms, and hopefully dozing the evening away after a hearty dinner. That thought made Elsa reluctant to have this discussion tonight, but she knew she would keep putting it off until Anna forced her to have it. Better to seize this moment while she still had some courage left.

* * *

Anna snorted loudly, rolling over with a soft thud onto a stone floor that felt like carpet. It was carpet. She blinked, confused, the images of her cell and the tiny stone bed still fresh in her mind. She gave a soft laugh—she'd been dreaming about sleep. As if she didn't get enough while in her own bed. Trust her addled mind to do something like that. But then if she wasn't in her cell, and the floor was covered in carpet, where was she, and why was she cold—and lying on the floor?

She remembered something about a scent. Sharp, like mountain air and pine, but with a softness wholly indescribable. Winter, but femin—oh, Elsa's bed. It smelled like her, and Anna found that comforting right now. The delicate perfume of the woman—sister; and queen—that had rescued her. That explained the location, because Elsa's bed could of course only be found in Elsa's room. The cold was likely from the nightgown she was wearing, little more than a shift, and rather drafty if she was perfectly honest. Anna wondered if she had fallen asleep on top of her sister's bed. Judging from the fact she was now lying on the floor—and realizing finally that she was actually in some pain from her cracked ribs—it began making a lot more sense.

"I know you like to sleep, but I have no idea how you can miss a bed that large," a very familiar voice said in a faintly mocking tone.

Anna mumbled something unintelligible, before she settled on: "Ffff…ell."

Then she heard something that sounded like a palm meeting a forehead, and soft, muffled laughter. "Are you okay?"

The red haired princess grunted with effort, pushing herself upright, emerging from behind the bed. She waved cheerily until she noticed the determined, fearful set of her sister's even features. She also saw the rolled up piece of paper in her hands. When Elsa spoke it was low, measured, and held no small degree of trepidation.

"You remember my note?"

Anna nodded slowly.

"I meant every word of it. This is—What I'm holding—I want to know you're strong enough to–to handle reading this. This… note, is something I wrote three years ago, before… well, before the sea took our parents. I don't want to talk about it, but I _have_ to. I don't know what this is going to change between us, but you deserve the truth—especially from me. This is–is… it's the most painful thing left in my past. In our past. I wish sometimes that I never wrote that, but then you might have lost me without ever knowing why and… and…"

The tears fell from her sister's cheeks as Anna processed everything she had just heard. What Elsa had just said implied that the scrap of paper she held was not just any note, but _the_ note. The one she had talked about before Anna was kidnapped—at least, Anna thought they had talked about it. Maybe Elsa had just hinted at it. But it was real, and it was here. Anna wasn't sure if she wanted to read it, or burn it, and expunge those memories forever. And Elsa had made sure to ask if she was strong enough. She shivered, looking at her sister, knowing the note had to be very, very bad to even have that question asked of her.

But she would never question her own strength. Elsa had said she was the strongest, bravest person she knew—and that it was okay to be scared because even she got scared sometimes. And the prospect of reading her sister's suicide note was nothing if not scary. Terrifying would have been more accurate. She couldn't look at Elsa right now—seeing the hurt on her face might have taken that vital ounce of strength she needed to complete her reading. Instead, Anna simply held out her hand, palm up, a silent request for the note. Elsa pressed it into her hand, and she couldn't help but notice the way her touch lingered, the sadness and want she felt in that caress. She let out an unsteady breath, bringing the note into the light.

It was worse than anything she could have imagined. She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, forcing herself to continue reading. Three years ago her sister had thought the world would be a better place without her in it. She kept calling herself a monster; saying she was doing this out of love. To protect those she loved. She had at least _tried_ to think of how much it would hurt everyone, but then she had asked to be _forgotten_. For people to stop caring that she ever existed. She had said that Anna would not understand. Even now, three years hence, Anna could not fathom her sister's true purpose in writing some of those words.

It was more than an apology. She had said something about not blaming anyone. She intended to return all the items she had been given to their rightful owners. Everything else she left to Anna, as some kind of apology. But it was more than that. Anna felt it forming slowly in the back of her mind. Elsa was taking the blame for what she was going to do. All of it—every ounce. And by taking everything upon herself, she was trying to absolve all those around her of any guilt they might feel. Still sacrificing herself to protect those around her. It was at once the most selfish and most selfless thing she could have done. Anna put the note down with a shaky hand, being very careful not to damage it. This evidence, not just of despair, but of love. Elsa loved her so much she had been willing to _die_ for her. Just as she had for Elsa, on the fjord. She knew already what that had done to her sister.

The love they shared was more than sisterly, but fell short of lust. It was the deep love of true companions, of people simply made for each other. It was no different, Anna assumed, than the bond she shared with the friends she had within the castle's walls. Only in this case they were nearly equals; and the strength of Elsa's love, if Anna dared to give it a name, was elemental—like any other emotion her sister chose to display. She felt a strange hollowness in her chest at that revelation. She was unsure if she would ever love anyone as deeply as Elsa loved her, and because of that, she felt _unworthy_ of such devotion. That Anna had showed that same spirit of devotion and self-sacrifice made little difference at this point—until she began to realize, with tears in her eyes, just how alike they really were.

She couldn't speak. It was not her voice that had failed her this time, but her words. She simply did not know what to say. Nor did she know quite what to do. But Elsa did. She always knew, somehow. Even when she got it wrong, it was just making the effort that counted. The Queen of Arendelle, her beloved sister, lay awkwardly beside her on the bed, arms open, leaving the decision entirely in Anna's hands. The younger of the sisters sighed, falling atop the platinum haired queen, burying her face in those wonderfully soft tresses. Then she slammed her fist against Elsa's chest hard enough draw a pained gasp from her sister.

"Lost… you…" she tried to articulate, words coming back to her slowly.

"You saved me," Elsa stared lovingly into her eyes, and Anna suddenly forgot what she was going to berate her sister for. There was nothing in those crystal blue orbs except concern for her, and Anna blinked in surprise. Had she been attempting to beat up her sister for caring _too much?_ Given her generally scatterbrained nature, she thought it possible. It had something do with—ah, the suicide note. The most damning piece of evidence in existence. Proof that Elsa cared too much, but didn't understand the nature of love—or at least, not three years ago.

It really was as simple as Olaf's explanation. The words she'd heard when dying of a frozen heart, ice creeping through her veins. Love is putting someone else's needs above your own. Anna knew there were other kinds of love—such as the kind she shared with Kristoff that might someday involve a love of children as well—but the core was the same. Caring about someone else more than you cared about yourself. Anna sighed, flopping bonelessly onto the bed. Elsa's love was so strong she was willing to put others' need for safety above the value of her own life. It was stupid, and selfish, but deeply touching and incredibly heartrending. Anna didn't know how to feel about that. Conflicted was the best guess she had. She wanted to thump and kiss and berate and hug and lecture and just… do things, with Elsa. She wanted to show her sister how much she could be appreciated as a _person_.

Just like she did for me, Anna realized, shifting uncomfortably on the mattress. The way she gave herself—her time—to me, for a whole day, before all this. But how do I do something like that for her? What do you get the queen who has everything? And then Anna had to giggle as she imagined several scenarios involving a number of men making fools of themselves in order to impress Elsa. Or courtly women—Elsa had revealed that she liked Anna's body. Then that got Anna wondering if Elsa liked girls in general, or just her in particular. The thrill of that thought was so taboo she shivered from head to toe.

"Sorry," Elsa apologized automatically. "I let it get too cold."

"Nhhot… Fff…oollll…t," Anna took a deep breath, trying again. "Not. Fault."

"Not my fault?" Anna plainly heard the disbelieving tone in her sister's voice.

"Mine. Baaa…adh. Thhhorrrr… ht," clenching her fist so tight she felt her nails digging into her palm, Anna spoke again. She was going to speak to her sister. She was sick and tired of being afraid. Of letting her nameless fears get in the way of her speech. "Bad though—" She descended into a coughing fit, her throat seizing against her attempts at clear speech. She needed a way through this that was not just reliance on her diary and her admittedly poor penmanship. She needed a real solution, and with some sadness, she realized that it might not come from Elsa; but everyone else around her. Hank. Kristoff. Olaf. Gerda. Kai. Maybe even the council. Kjellson, and his daughters. The physician, doctor Arnesen. The problem was that she was trying to _hide_ her inability to speak. But the more people she faced, the more necessary talking became, the more likely she would be able to get past that block, right?

She'd earned the nickname 'feistypants' for a reason. And starting tomorrow, that reason would see her about around the castle, facing her fears head on, smashing them like a ten year old on a bike tilting at a certain door. Even if said door had been rather more resilient than she had planned. It didn't matter anymore. She had a plan, and she was going to take _action_.

But right now, she was going to comfort her sister as best as she could, help her see that that note had not changed things between them. That it had led to a deeper understanding, not the separation Elsa had feared—had probably always feared. With the surge of strength and compassion she felt blooming in her chest, Anna knew she could say a handful of words. A little something that her sister would be able to treasure until morning. She hoped it would be enough.

"Always here. For you."


	49. Night Terrors

**Trigger Warnings for Violence, Death, and Non-consensual Physical Contact**

* * *

Lieutenant Henrik Erikson shifted beneath the covers of his bed, trying to get comfortable. For some reason sleep eluded him on this night, a rare occurrence, but not unheard of. He sighed, lying flat on his back, and threw his head against the pillow. The day's events playing over and over again in his head. Specifically, it was his actions during Queen Elsa's meeting with the guildsman—Søren—that occupied his thoughts. Even though she had given him express permission, he had struck the Queen. It had saved Søren's life, most likely; and then Elsa had thanked him for his actions. After a little discussion on the Queen having killed a man, in combat, Hank had been summarily dismissed, ostensibly to have his injury inspected and bandaged as quickly as possible.

The way Søren had reacted had also been unexpected, after the decision Queen Elsa had made regarding his son. Hank wondered if there might have been something between the guildsman and the Queen. He did move pretty fast, Hank reasoned. Especially when he thought you might have injured Queen Elsa in some way. It only works if he cares about her as much as he cares about his son. Hank frowned in the darkness. But does that go both ways—does Queen Elsa care that strongly for Søren? Is that why she asked me to be ready to stop her? More than just avoiding another death, but the death of a close friend?

There were too many unanswered questions for his liking, but Hank knew if he started asking questions like that the scandal could have been absolute, blackening both Elsa and Søren's reputations. It was also beyond the pale to simply ask the Queen of such things. Who she chose as a partner was her prerogative, and while political alliances would be useful, as monarch, she was free to choose in whatever manner she saw fit. Hank doubted anyone in the kingdom would begrudge her that freedom, given how much she had already sacrificed for them. How long she had hidden and suppressed her powers to keep everyone safe.

But thinking of Elsa's powers pushed him towards thinking about that storm, three years ago. The storm that had blown in from the mountains, a day or so after the kingdom had received the tragic news that both the King and the Queen had been lost to the sea. The storm that his father, Erik Solberg, had insisted on working through, so that his son would have enough coin to buy a new waistcoat for the officer's ball—in the hopes he might attract the eye of a fine young woman. He'd never attended that ball, instead taking care of his dying father. Hank felt his heart grow heavy with the recollection. And with Elsa's powers outed, and the knowledge that they were linked so intimately to her negative emotions, it made him wonder if perhaps—unintentionally—she had had a hand in his father's death. Another thing he was unable to ask about—but for very different reasons. Hank's father had not been the only one to die in that storm.

Hank didn't want confront Elsa—all he wanted was to quietly learn the truth. He wasn't sure why, other than knowing the truth might put his mind at ease over the issue. It might have changed his opinion of the Queen, or it might not have. He was starting to see more of her as a person now, more of _Elsa_ , less of Arendelle's ruler. As her bodyguard and protector, developing that kind of closeness was dangerous, but he was powerless to prevent it. He had warned Elsa that he might not have been the most capable person for the job—but this was not a reason her had even thought to consider. Developing personal feelings for the Queen herself.

There was a loud knock at the door, and Hank stirred, rolling into the sunlight breaking between his curtains. There was a hushed conversation outside the door. He knew Elsa's voice. The other voice, younger, feminine—almost childish. He knew he knew it from somewhere long ago. Sometimes the owner of that voice could be a right brat. Like now.

"Hank's got a girlfriend. Hank's got a _girlfriend!_ " he hadn't heard that voice in fifteen years, but the name came to him instantly.

"Sarah!" he admonished the girl. She was only eight, dark brown hair falling to her shoulders, green eyes full of mischief. She leapt onto the bed hugging as much of her brother as she could reach. Considering his size, it wasn't much. Hank smiled down at her, reaching out to tousle her hair. "And I do not."

"Do so," Sarah pointed to the door, gasping as Elsa wheeled her chair through. "She's so pretty…" There was a long pause. "But she's hurt. Who hurt you so bad? I'll go beat them up for you. I promise."

"Your Majesty, good morning. I did not expect to see you here."

"You invited me in yesterday, Hank. You've seen where I live; isn't it fair I see where you live also?"

"It's not much, but it's home," Hank made a sweeping gesture, taking in all three rooms of the house. "If you stay a little longer you might meet my father."

"Wait, wait, wait…" Sarah had finally put the pieces together in her head. "Your girlfriend is _Queen Elsa?!_ "

"Sarah, she's not my girlfriend. I'm her protector—bodyguard. I make sure bad people can't hurt her."

"Is that why she's in the wheelchair?" Sarah turned piercing green eyes on her brother. He felt as if she was looking straight through him. "Did bad people already hurt her?"

"Yes, they did," Elsa confirmed. "But that was not your brother's fault. He stopped the other bad men trying to hurt me. I came here to thank him."

"To thank me?" Hank was a little confused, then his injured side spiked with pain strong enough to make him gasp.

"You took a bullet for me. But then, even so injured, you continued to protect me with your fallen body until the men in the crowd helped me. You deserve a reward for your devotion."

Hank's mind went into overdrive as Elsa moved closer to his bed—obviously unaware he was wearing only undershorts beneath the blankets. Then his mind refused to work at all as he noticed just how close Elsa was. The way her hair was starting to fall against him. How her body shifted within the chair, leaning so far forward she seemed at risk of falling out. He saw the crystal blue of her eyes, set against hair turned to liquid gold by the morning sun. He saw the pale freckles upon her nose and cheeks. He felt her warm breath against his lips, and he was frozen in time, afraid and hopeful and confused and many more things besides. He couldn't even blink, and he knew in that moment what he wanted—ever since he had first laid eyes upon her.

He wanted her, because he wanted to _deserve_ her. To prove he was worthy, to show her how worthy she herself was. And this, here, was the first step in the fulfillment of that desire. Her lips pressed softly against his own, and he tasted winter. Frost, cool mountain streams, pines, and a light chasing of mint. He didn't care how much sense it made. He loved the brief taste of her lips, and when they parted he was tempted to try and drag Queen Elsa back to him. He was in love with her, in love with the winter, and all that that meant. She had acted upon it first, and that had made it acceptable—by his social standards. By his personal standards it had been amazing. To kiss the face of winter…

When his eyes drifted open Hank let out a heavy sigh, bitterly disappointed. The bitterness slowly turned to hope as he recalled what had happened in that dream. He wondered then if Elsa could truly be so bold—although she had said that such courage was the province of her sister more than her. Perhaps he would have to take the initiative. But he could not, serving as her ward and protector. To develop such a relationship would likely put both of them in jeopardy. It might have happened anyway, but Hank was not going to force it. An action would have to come from the Queen—or at least a statement of intent; because if something was developing between them, she would need a new protector, one she was not romantically involved with.

The issue was too complicated for midnight ramblings, and Hank pulled the thin blankets of the bed around him just a little tighter. The guard barracks was colder than the marine barracks at the fort. And a lot colder than his old home… where the dream had been. He wondered idly who lived there now. He also wondered if his sister, had she grown, would have teased him just as mercilessly about his feelings for Elsa. Queen Elsa. Probably. Sarah could be a right brat, but he'd still loved her. It had been hard to accept, at twelve, that she would never be with them again. Or that twelve years later he would lose his only remaining family. Erik Solberg still lived, in a way, in the memories Hank turned to for solace in dark moments; and in the small, carved wood box that rested under three changes of clothes in Hank's uniform trunk.

* * *

It was a normal morning for Anna. She woke up slowly, running her hands through her hair, thinking nothing of it. She would go talk her sister's door, because she hadn't done that in some time. Even if Elsa hated her, she was going show her that it didn't matter. They were sisters, that meant they had to love each other, right? That was when she heard the commotion outside, in the courtyard. A lot of the servants and guards were clustered around something, at the foot of the castle's tallest tower. She was dressed in minutes, hurrying down the stairs and running through the courtyard.

Kai tried to stop her, Gerda tried to turn her aside, but Anna would not be deterred. She wanted to know what all the excitement was about. And when she saw, all that excitement turned to dread and numbness. She blinked stupidly, unable to comprehend what lay before her. It was if she had been struck dumb by the sight. She thought maybe she had been, because if Elsa had hated her, it should have been impossible. But clearly it _was_ possible. It had happened, and she had no idea why. Kai gently turned her around, and pressed a piece of paper into her unfeeling hands.

It was a note. A suicide note. It revealed everything and nothing all at once. Something about powers. Something about hurting her. Things about losing control, and taking it all upon herself. Saying the world was better off without monsters like her in it. Anna didn't know how her sister could think like that. Could think she was any kind of monster—even if she had shut her best friend out for the last ten years. Anna felt an arm around her shoulders, gently guiding her away. It was Gerda, sitting her on a bench so she could take it all in.

"Your highness, you have my deepest condolences. Princess Elsa was precious to all of us, and the world is poorer for her passing."

"Not according to her," Anna shook the note in indignation, sniffling. "Why, Gerda, why do this to herself? Gods… why was she face-up? Why did she fall backwards? Was she scared, Gerda? Did it hurt—did she hurt? I—I… don't know what to do. I just… don't know."

"I do not think Princess Elsa felt anything, your highness," Gerda spoke slowly, her tone hushed and soothing. "It would have been too sudden to feel that pain. I most certainly hope it was. I know this will not be easy for you, or for your parents, but all the staff are here for you, princess Anna, should you have need of us."

At the mention of her parents Anna's mind had gone flying at a rate of knots. They were in Corona, on a family trip. They didn't know—they couldn't know—and it would likely be the first thing they learned when they arrived home. Anna knew at least one thing she could do, one thing she would need help with, because getting words right had never been her strong suit.

"Gerda… I–I need your help to write a speech. I have to get the words right when I tell mom and dad. I have to. And I have to go to my room, because I think I need to lie down and cry for a long time… why am I not crying? I feel so empty. It's like there's nothing inside of me anymore. I still loved her. I was going to tell her today that I loved her, that she was still my sister. Was I too late?"

"I think this had been some time in coming, your highness. When Kai found the note it was clear it had been written some time ago. Months, perhaps. He may even have helped unwittingly revise some of the words in there. He was most upset when he showed me that note. I am delaying you, your highness, and I am sorry. I know you would never, ever do something like that, but I am afraid for you. I do not want to lose you as well."

Anna threw her arms around the longest serving maid in the castle, her confidante and advisor on many things. "Gerda I… you shouldn't… I mean…" the red haired young princess broke into more sobs, slowly finding her voice again. "Please take me to my room—but don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't care if it's improper or anything, I was only the spare anyway. I don't care about the rules… I just… can't. Not alone."

"I will keep watch over you, your highness," Gerda spoke softly, gently helping the young princess from the bench on which they had been sitting. The journey back to her room was a blur, and Anna simply let herself collapse on the covers, unsure why the tears hadn't come. Her sister was dead, so she was meant to be sad about it, but instead she felt a great hollowness… and a strange sense of lightness, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. It was wrong. So very wrong. She closed her eyes, and suddenly she was on the docks, hands clasped demurely behind her back, waiting for her parents to disembark from their ship.

But the things that came off that ship were not her parents—no matter how much they looked like them. The gangplank did not sag under their weight. She could almost see through them. Their hair was untouched by the breeze, and their clothes were too perfect. No folds or creases anywhere. And looking through them she saw the impossible. Elsa stood there, hair unbound, floating around her head like a cloud of platinum. Her body was still broken, but as Anna watched she saw flesh pull together and bones drawn back to their rightful places. It was completely silent. The speech she had written fell from fingers stricken with terror. The way they moved towards her, arms outstretched, accusing looks on every face…

"Why didn't you stop me?" Elsa seemed to taunt her sister, spectral voice cutting like a knife.

"I–I didn't know," Anna backed away slowly, quite sure these spectres would move faster than she could run.

"Why did you leave us there?" Her mother asked, disapproving.

"Where… where did I leave you mom? Why are you asking me?" It didn't make any sense. Her parents had traveled to Corona… but only their ship had made it back. Something was very, very wrong. Anna teetered on the edge of the pier, nearly losing her balance and falling in the fjord.

"Why have you forgotten us?" Her father accused, seething with anger.

"I—" Anna clutched at her throat. Her voice was _gone_. Seized by a terror which refused to return it. She ran. Her feet pounded against the wooden boards covering the pier. She didn't know where to run, only that she had to. She could feel hands grabbing at her arm, her right arm. Fingers burned through her flesh, bubbling like hot wax. Something sheared clean through her arm, halfway between her shoulder and elbow. She stumbled, off balance, falling heavily on her left side. Something slammed into her ribs with enough force to send her tumbling over the edge of the pier.

Ghostly hands tore at her back as she fell, and everything felt like it was on fire. The water of the fjord boiled against her skin, and when she looked down she was the colour of fresh ice, sinking slowly to the bottom of the harbour. Then the world shifted, and she was falling into the sky, something throwing her against hard ground. A hand closed around her throat, and she felt the spectral chill branding her, stealing her voice forever. She choked as an icy hand lifted her skirt, pressing against her in most intimate ways. She squirmed and struggled, but she was finding it harder and harder to breathe. She could feel that chill against her bare skin now. Her body shifted against it as her mind rebelled at the thought of anyone touching her there. She looked up, and the spectre straddling her, pinning her to the ground and touching her in most unwanted ways was her sister. Her own sister.

Was _this_ the secret Elsa had talked about in her note? Had she killed herself to avoid doing this very thing? Anna tried shifting her weight, grabbing the arm pinning her throat, but her hands passed through thin air, Elsa's arm turning to bluish smoke as her hands passed through it. She could already feel Elsa doing more than just touching her. It was so forbidden, so wrong, so unwanted, that she screamed. She screamed so loudly the spectre above her dissipated into the bluish smoke. Then so did everything else, and she was left in pure emptiness, with nothing to keep her comfort or return to.

Screaming softly, Anna awoke, shifting uncomfortably in the darkness. There was still a hand pressing against her, caressing her flesh intimately. She screamed a lot louder this time, rolling sideways and getting tangled in the sheets. The hand was still there—but it no longer moved. Elsa's face rose above the line of bolsters separating them. Worry was etched in every line across her face, shining behind bright, blue eyes. That expression quickly turned to one of embarrassment and mortification. Only then did Anna figure out that the hand touching her in intimate places was her own—and that her arm had fallen half asleep. She blushed so hotly she was afraid her cheeks would set the pillows aflame. But just before Elsa had turned away in mortification she had seen a relieved little smile.

Anna took in a calming breath, trying to rationalize away the dream, like Elsa would have. It really didn't help, but it was better than thinking about what her body had been doing without her consent. Elsa's note, on top of the way she'd been abused the soldiers at the fort—and especially Sten—had damaged something inside her. That's why her voice was so hard to find. Something in her psyche had been knocked loose, and she had a feeling it had to do with being touched—touched in special ways; even by her own hand, apparently. In ways she thought she'd wanted Kristoff to touch her. And maybe ways she thought she _might_ have let her sister touch her too. But if she was so afraid of that, did she dare do anything about it? Could she even _talk_ about it? She wasn't sure, but she resolved to ask her sister in the morning—after telling her what had happened with Sten. Elsa would need that context, as much as it might hurt. She would need to know why Anna felt this way. Elsa was awake now, but the issue was too serious for midnight pillow talk, so she settled for humour.

"Sorry." Anna asked, voice light. "Nice dream."

"Anna, it wasn't a nice dream," Elsa caught her lie in an instant. "Especially not if you wake screaming and thrashing about."

There was a pregnant pause, Anna expected her sister to say something more—and she figured Elsa was expecting a reply of some kind. She couldn't just say it. She needed to talk about it, but her voice was still recovering. She needed a little push, something that would _force_ her to talk. She just didn't know how to communicate that to Elsa without stronger words, or using the diary. And she didn't want to use either of those—she wanted her sister to just _know_. But it wasn't that simple.

"You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable; but I'm going to ask you about everything in the morning. We're going to have a talk. You can ask me things too. Okay?"

Anna nodded, then realized her sister would be unable to see her clearly in the darkness. "Yes. Okay."

The young red haired princess was unsure of exactly how they would talk in the morning, but she was glad for the opportunity. Elsa really had meant what she said on the note. No more secrets, and no more fears. Together they would be stronger; for whatever values of together they each desired—and that was something she could ask Elsa. It might be just as discomfiting as talking about Sten, and the dreams, but it might let them resolve those feelings in a more positive light. Anna smiled, tugging the blankets further over her, slowly drifting back to sleep, hoping for better dreams.

* * *

"And now you would take that child away from me?" Søren's angry roar echoed through Elsa's office. She could already feel her magic building to a dangerous crescendo. One wrong word would be all it took to unleash it. That word came, uttered with such bitterness and hate that Elsa saw only red. "Monster."

Hank leapt in front of her, but it wasn't fast enough. The ice simply caught him first, a six inch spear piercing his chest and erupting from his back. Three more joined it an instant later, and Elsa screamed. But the worst was yet to come. Spikes of ice surrounded Søren, running him through from every angle. Blood tainted her ice, and Elsa fought to keep from throwing up. She had just murdered two people, men she considered friends and allies, all because one word had made her lose control. Just one word, and now two people she cared about were dead, their blood on her hands in more ways than one.

Everything blurred, and as she cried the world around her changed. She was looking down on Arendelle's townsfolk, both sombre and accusing in equal measure. Someone was holding her up, keeping her upright because her legs no longer worked. Something heavy was placed on her shoulders, and she shivered in fear when she felt the same something tighten against her neck. That was when she looked around to see where she really was.

Wooden platform. A hatch beneath her feet. A frame running up to a sturdy timber beam. A rope hanging from that beam. A rope that was cinched around her neck. Elsa felt her heart tremble, quickening its pace inside her chest. She saw her sister, twin braids over her shoulders, sitting above the crowd, watching with the saddest look Elsa had ever seen on a face that was not her own. Anna was wearing a black mourning dress, and slowly pulled a veil across her face to hide the tears Elsa could see welling in her beautiful turquoise eyes. But Elsa didn't blame her for what was about to happen. For killing Hank and Søren she deserved this. Unable to ever control her powers properly.

A strange dichotomy was growing within her. She was afraid _to_ die, but she was not afraid _of_ dying. She was afraid that the last sound she would hear would be a creak, and a snap. But if that left the world a better place—a safer place for those she loved—then she could accept that. If the world could only be safe without her in it, she was willing to pay that price. But not if Anna was watching. By the Divine, why was she watching? Why was she even there—witness to the execution of her only remaining family. Elsa wanted to scream at her to run, to look away, to do something; but she couldn't. Just as she had accepted her fate, she had accepted that she could not change Anna's decision to watch.

Elsa gulped heavily, the thick rope scratching at her throat. She was afraid, but it would all be over quickly. Everyone would be better off. Everyone would be safer. _Anna_ would be safe. And broken. Elsa was afraid for her sister, unsure of what the future held. She watched, shivering in terror, as Anna removed the veil, looking into her eyes. She saw understanding, apology, and determination. She saw no accusation, no satisfaction, no happiness. Only resignation to what had to be done. Elsa could accept that—it had to be done. She knew she wouldn't have been strong enough to seek this kind of justice if her sister had committed the same crimes, but Anna had always been stronger, more resolved. Elsa tried to square her shoulders, to face death with dignity.

There was a creak, and she fell.

No snap came, and she knew she was going to die in pain, her sister witnessing everything. Every twitch. Every jerk. Every gasp for a breath forever denied. Her slight weight had not been enough to break her neck with that fall, but it was still enough to crush her windpipe against that rope. She was dying, slowly, only able to exhale, her lungs screaming for air. Every fibre of her being was screaming out in protest, and her mind railed against the impossibility of the situation. She could not be dying. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Elsa's mind refused to believe—or perhaps accept—that she was dying. Hanged until she was dead.

She could feel her limbs twitch, and in the blurry distance she could see the horror written upon her sister's face. But nothing happened to stop the pain. To reduce her sentence. Her muscles began to burn, and her chest was on fire. She blinked, unable to focus, unsure what was wrong, lack of air slowly rendering her senseless—and soon after, she was sure, dead. And Anna was watching. She wanted to tell her sister to run, not to watch. She didn't want Anna to see the pain she was going through in her final moments. To see the futility of a hanged woman trying to take an impossible breath, throat crushed by a massive hawser.

The former Queen of Arendelle, Elsa, hung limply from the rope, killed by a combination of gravity and her own meagre weight. Her spirit departed, witnessing the shell of her body swinging gently from the gallows, and the interminable sight of her sister weeping inconsolably on the throne. Then she was gone, dragged through the earth to a place of heat and torment.

Elsa woke with tears in her eyes and damp cheeks. She wasn't sure why. One hand gently massaged her throat, that rope had felt real, and she still felt short of breath. It was almost exactly the opposite of the hypothetical situation she had created that day—the one that had plagued her with the image of her sister hanging from a gallows. She was rather less afraid of that now, her overly active imagination having made it her own terrifying death. It was the first dream she had had in a long time in which _she_ had died. Normally her dreams were about hurting everyone else—but then they ended, and she awoke. Not this time. In her dream she suffered a punishment befitting her crime—and under her own rules. The rules that said no one should be above the law; not even her.

She needed something to reassure her. A hug, a gentle kiss, some form of physical contact. That need overcame her sense of duty enough that she could brush her hand against Anna's arm, hoping against hope that she wouldn't wake. Anna stirred, pulling her arm away, wrapping it protectively around her stomach, but she didn't wake. Elsa sighed heavily, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. She would talk with Anna in the morning. They would both talk. Hopefully. No more secrets—if Anna asked her something, she would give a truthful answer, even if it might be a little hurtful. She had to trust that Anna was strong enough. She had to conquer her fear of driving Anna away through some misstep, or poorly worded phrase. She had to conquer the constant fear that she was not, in fact, worthy of the affection and trust her sister placed within her.

* * *

A small fire warmed the room while Kai sat in a well appointed armchair, the green and purple field of Arendelle splitting the chair down the middle and clashing slightly with his uniform. His left hand sought the crucifix beneath his shirt, while his right set the poker aside. The flickering firelight gave the room a subtle glow, just strong enough to make out the strong, handsome features of the only other occupant of the room. It was not quite enough to see the kindly shine Kai knew her eyes always held, nor the way her normally tidy hair had been been freed from her cap.

"I'm worried about her Kai. The princess has not spoken with me, or even to me, for three days. Ever since her return from that horrible ordeal. I am afraid something terrible has happened."

"I worry too, Gerda. Queen Elsa has not been herself recently. I understand the need to spend time with her sister, to make up for lost time, but it seems she is afraid to leave her side. She admitted her fears—perhaps inadvertently—this morning; when she renovated the upper floors of the castle for Princess Anna. After dinner she asked for _that_ note. She has not return—"

"No…" Gerda let out quiet protest, horrified at the thought.

"Only the Queen and I know the contents of that note. I think, however, that she may have intended to show it to someone very close to her."

"Why would she do that Kai?" confusion carried through Gerda's next question. "Does she not know how much seeing something like that would hurt Princess Anna?"

"I do believe it has something to do with a new policy of openness between our beloved rulers. I have my suspicions about what happened during the princess's captivity; but I would not speak of them here. I would not speak of them at all, in fact, were it possible. However, Queen Elsa told me that while Anna has, in her words, been 'damaged in the psyche', she is also sure they will both recover from the ordeal."

"And the note is going to help how?"

"Honestly, Gerda?" Kai was frank, short tempered because he didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle necessary to help the sisters. "I do not know. I wish I did; but Queen Elsa is keeping her secrets once more—although this time it appears to be in order to protect her sister. I will not pry, and I have warned off the other servants as well. If either the Queen or the Princess want help, all they need do is ask."

"What if they _need_ help, Kai?" Gerda shot back, still worried about her little princess being so injured. "What if they need help and cannot ask us, for whatever reason?"

"Then we are lost. But of late Queen Elsa has, indeed, asked for my help on a number of occasions. Before the Great Freeze, such a thing never happened. I know in my heart that in time, both of them will be fine. They are safe, and we do our best to attend and protect them. Speaking of which, Lieutenant Erikson remains in the castle barracks to serve as Queen's Protector, but the princess has no such ward."

"How can you be so confident they will come through this, Kai?" Gerda paused, taking in the rest of Kai's words. "You remember the last time someone was assigned to 'protect' the young princess?"

Kai shivered, cold dread creeping up his spine. In that case it turned out that the princess was not the one that needed protecting. At fourteen Princess Anna had been a lot more like a boisterous young man than a fiery princess. In some ways she still was, her thirst for adventure unabated, and her shameless physicality. It had always been a joy to see the princess dance—uncoordinated as she was—because she moved with such energy it was impossible to dislike her performances. Then she sparred with the guards—and could in fact outfight some of the raw recruits. One of those recruits thought he had landed the perfect role, becoming a friend to the princess, her warden while in town, and protector when she went exploring further than the castle gates—sneaking out with her.

Two weeks of trying to keep up with the princess had turned him into a terrified wreck. Kai remembered the story well, and it had been decided then that Princess Anna would not need a protector unless the threat to her life was present and immediate. Anything less she was capable of dealing with on her own. And what she lacked in grace and stealth, she made up for in speed and cunning. She had something of a warrior spirit, and Kai could easily see why she had found solace with the portrait of _Jeanne d'Arc_.

"I remember it well," Kai replied at last, recalling Gerda had asked him a question.

"I still worry. What those men in the fort may have done to her. How they might have treated her—I do not like to dwell upon such thoughts."

"Neither do I, Gerda. Neither do I. But I am confident that the princess—that both her and Queen Elsa—will be hale and hearty in time."

"Where do you get such assurances from, Kai; what make makes you so certain?"

"History. The world has thrown worse at those fine young women we helped to raise. Nothing so far has been sufficient to destroy them. They have been through worse, and they are strong," Kai sighed softly. "But there is another reason, one I always trusted."

"You may trust it, but how can I; if I do not know what it is?" Gerda frowned, turning to face Kai. "How can _I_ know they will be okay?"

Kai smiled warmly in the firelight, turning a little to regard Gerda more fully—and so that she could see his smile in the dim light. "What does your heart tell you?"


	50. Home Truths & Cold Fears

Elsa woke slowly, the sun making its presence known through the high windows of her room. Her thoughts and worries swirled slowly around her head before settling across her shoulders like a dark cloak. She wanted to be rid of such concerns, but she had a kingdom to run, and she was doing that to the very best of her ability. It often felt impossible, like she was always falling short, but the problem was that she had set her standards far too high. Good enough, to her, was outstanding to people like Anna and the council. Gudbrand's reassurance had been worth a lot that day, telling her she was already the Queen Arendelle needed. The weight about her shoulders lifted a little.

She remembered saying something about talking with Anna. Her sister had had a nightmare, and they had to discuss it, if she was willing. Elsa remembered her own nightmare, one hand gently massaging her throat. The strangest part of that dream had been the lack of fear, her acceptance of her fate. The only fear she had felt was fear at what Anna might do. She knew Anna would never do such a thing to her, that it was merely her mind playing tricks on her, but it had been more than a little disturbing. She would talk with her sister about that dream, and then anything else she might ask about.

Only then did she notice it was her left hand that had massaged her throat. Her right was captured and entwined with Anna's. She couldn't recall having done anything like that before falling asleep. Nor could she recall moving the first bolster. She remembered touching Anna, caressing her arm for comfort, but not going this far. What had she done? She panicked as her sister stirred, and tried extricating her hand from her younger sister's grip to no avail. Then that hand squeezed hers, and Elsa relaxed, tension ebbing away slowly. Anna turned to face her, eyes fluttering open, magnificent bedhead unable to spoil her dusky beauty.

"Hi," the red haired princess smiled sleepily as she spoke. One eyebrow quirked up. "Talk?"

Elsa smiled back, her heart soaring when she heard her sister's sleepy voice. "We will talk," she assured Anna. "If you're awake."

"Five more minutes." The young princess mumbled, and just like that she fell asleep again, snoring gently. Elsa laughed softly, finally able to remove her hand, using her arms to push herself up against the pillows into a sitting position against the headboard. They could talk just as easily in bed as out of it, and she felt no need for formality with her sister at this early hour. In fact, she considered, the lack of formality might even help. It was becoming increasingly clear that Anna wanted to talk, and she wanted help in that regard. She kept forcing herself to speak, and despite how much it hurt Elsa to hear such strain in her sister's voice, it was a sign of progress.

Elsa had a good idea of how Anna's mind worked, it was mostly based on determination, love, and a need for contact. It was also surprisingly deep, especially when it came to helping Elsa, and contained no small amount of wisdom, tempered somewhat by Anna's scatterbrained nature. Or perhaps it was that she easily distracted, Elsa considered more carefully—she always seemed to return to the topic at hand after her flights of fancy and odd little discourses. And her more recent work with Kai, before the kidnapping, showed true focus and an improving capacity for forward planning—something which had not always been a strong suit for Anna, and perhaps still wasn't. She did seem to act out of the moment more than out of some great design, but Elsa liked that about her sister, the bright spontaneity contrasted well with her own purposeful demeanour.

It had also led to more than a few moments of awkwardness. She remembered with a chagrined smile the night Anna had asked her about her 'lady parts', and then suggested a simple method for establishing whether they still worked. A bright blush worked its way into her cheeks, and Elsa looked away from her sister. Perhaps best not to combine those two trains of thought. Even if Anna had said she didn't mind if she was the object certain fantasies. But that was all they would ever be; Elsa would not allow herself to act on such base instincts, no matter how badly she wanted to. Especially in quiet moments like this, alone with her thoughts; thoughts of a much happier Anna. Thoughts of an Anna that had once implied she would actually let Elsa do that. Once—and then had the gall to suggest Elsa do the same thing with a man for comparison. Elsa's blush grew hotter, and she pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking her head in disbelief. Some things were best left unsaid.

The talk was supposed to be about Anna, and her issues, not Elsa. Anna's nightmare had likely been very disturbing for her to have woken up screaming. Elsa hoped it wasn't because she was somehow reliving the events at the fort. She had read of soldiers returning from war, only for their minds to fight the battle again and again if they heard certain noises, or saw certain images. Those minds that returned to battle often suffered nightmares, and even had difficulties distinguishing their own reality. But Anna was strong, even if her nightmares were like that, Elsa knew her sister had the strength to fight it. And if she needed just a little more, Elsa would be there for her. Always.

Anna yawned deeply, blinking against the sunlight, and Elsa smiled patiently down at her. It had been more than five minutes, but neither of them cared. Elsa asked the question. "Would you like to talk?"

"I—Yes." Anna's voice was as strong and clear she could make it. It was hard for her to say more than a few words at a time, and Elsa knew she was used to being the more active participant in most conversations. Then Elsa had what she considered a brilliant idea. Instead of expecting Anna to relate, haltingly, the contents of her dream, she was going to _ask_ her. It would be much like a game of _tjue spørsmål_. Except she wouldn't be limited to asking just twenty questions, and her sister wouldn't be limited to saying only 'yes' or 'no'.

"Anna, I have an idea," Elsa noted how expectantly her sister looked at her in that moment, trying to pin down exactly what the emotion behind Anna's eyes was. "I'll ask some questions, and you can answer like a game of _tjue spørsmål_. You can say more than yes or no, of course."

"Good." Anna beamed up at her, and Elsa smiled back warmly. "Like idea. Start?"

"Did you have a dream last night?"

Anna rolled her eyes before replying. Elsa was trying to ease her into it, but apparently her sister wanted a little more directness. She still answered with a firm: "Yes."

"Was it a bad dream?"

"Yes. I—you. Mom… Dad…"

"I was in your dream?" Elsa wasn't overly surprised. As Anna's sister she thought she would show up in Anna's dreams about as often as the redhead showed up in hers. Neither was it surprising that it was a bad dream. Maybe Anna had relived that moment on the fjord—the nightmare both of them had shared soon after. It had only been a month. An event like that would leave a mark that could last for years. Elsa knew it all too well—no matter how many times Anna forgave her, both for that moment, and for the incident in the grand hall when they were younger, she still found it impossible to forgive herself. She was trying, Anna was showing her how it might be possible, but she just wasn't there. Not yet. And now she was ruining Anna's dreams as well.

"Yes, but… died."

"I died?" A chill ran down her spine as Elsa wondered if they had shared the same nightmare. If Anna's dream was being forced to watch her sister being hanged. It was hard enough to die in a dream with someone watching. It was harder to still to watch someone die, to understand—within the confines of the dream world—that they would never return. That was why her dreams—nightmares—of hurting Anna had been so affecting.

"Nnnh… oh-ohhh…te," Elsa grimaced, hearing her sister's voice breaking under the strain of her emotions. It returned a moment later, clearer, but no less painful once the word was understood. "Note."

And in that moment Elsa understood her sister's nightmare, because it had been her own once. In the dream Anna must have found her—rather, her body—and the note. The order was not important, but the fact that both existed in the dream. She hadn't thought of that as a side effect of reading the note—she should have, upon reflection, but she still considered it worthwhile to have told her sister. Fewer secrets kept between them meant less cause for discord in the future. Not that there had been much in the past, but it showed a mutual trust and respect—and that was what Elsa truly valued between them. But not as much as the bond they shared, a love that was more than sisterly, more than mere friendship; an intimacy of souls.

"Did I—In your dream, I killed myself?"

She heard Anna take a deep breath before replying quietly. "Yes. Came back."

"Wait, who came back? I did? Like a ghost?"

"Y–yes. I… I think. Yes. Ghost."

"Was the dream still bad?"

"W–worse."

"Worse how?" Elsa had forgotten in her surprise how she was supposed to be running the game—asking the questions. Anna tried to answer anyway.

"Mom. Dad. Ghosts… h-hurt me. All… hurt. You… you… no. C-can't." Seeing the fear on her sister's face, hearing the strain in her voice, Elsa leaned in for a hug to comfort her. Anna shied away, just a little, and Elsa's face fell. One step forward, two steps back.

"Please…" the voice was quietly pleading, but Elsa didn't know for what. Not until several tense moments passed, hovering over Anna, propping herself up and away from her sister as best she could "…hug. S-scared. Scared. Hug."

Elsa gently wrapped one arm around Anna's back, using the other to keep her from falling on top of her sister. Anna shivered, and shied away, but Elsa could see the need in her eyes, the permission to go too far—to push for this, and only this. So Elsa pushed, just a little, falling beside her sister, wrapping both arms clumsily around her and burying her face in her sister's glorious bedhead. While Anna continued to shiver, Elsa felt an arm wrapping around her own shoulders. She closed her eyes and planted a gentle kiss on her younger sister's forehead. The shivering suddenly stopped. Everything stopped. For a moment they were still, and Anna smiled at her through tear filled eyes.

"T-thank you. Brave. For me."

"Always," Elsa whispered back, tenderly wiping a tear from her sister's cheek. Anna smiled and let the tears fall, Elsa holding her close. Eyes already closed, Elsa bit back her own tears. This was progress, real progress—the cost was high, but they were both willing to pay. A warm hug, amidst the devastation wrought upon their lives. Elsa thought again of the Weseltonian fleet, and the decision she had been forced to make. She thought of Anna's ordeal, and the pain she must have felt at being unable to talk to anyone recently. Then she banished those thoughts, concentrating on only the good between them. How she had given Anna an entire day—and how that had been turned around to help her too. She still didn't think she deserved a sister that warm and loving, but perhaps the Divine had decided she would _need_ one, and so, she got Anna.

"Do you want to stop?"

"Stop?" Anna frowned, confused, gently pulling away from Elsa.

"Talking about your dream."

"No." Elsa saw the firm conviction in her sister's eyes when she spoke. "Was bad. Have to talk."

"You said I came back. Papa and mom came back. Did we… hurt you?" even though she already knew the answer, Elsa asked the question anyway, establishing the facts of the dream once more. She still winced at Anna's answer.

"Yes."

"How did we hurt you, Anna?"

"Took arm. Scratches. Scars," Anna touched her hand to as many of her injuries as she could reach, wincing when she might have touched some of them a little too hard. "Got worse. You…" Taking her sister's hand in her own, Anna placed that hand dangerously around her slim neck, pressing softly against her throat.

"I… I strangled you?" Elsa drew her hand back as if burned when Anna nodded. Apparently Anna was afraid of her, if her dream—nightmare—meant anything. But dreams very rarely did, and Elsa hoped it was merely the combination of a long day and certain revelations they had shared. "Did I—did you… die?"

"No, but… bad, Elsa. Scary."

When Elsa felt her sister taking her hand, gently guiding it over her body, a great fear grew within her. Her hand was guided past her sister's breasts and over her stomach. As her hand was drawn lower, nearly under the covers, Elsa pulled away. She tried to, but Anna was stronger than her, as she always had been. And she shot Elsa a warning look; this had to happen, no matter how uncomfortable it made them. Both of them were shivering slightly with dread anticipation. Elsa felt her hand being placed atop a smooth, warm triangle of cloth. She saw the burning blush combined with the fearful expression on her sister's face. She was quite sure her own fear and mortification mirrored that look.

It took her a moment to process what Anna had done, and why. Meanwhile, Elsa realized that if she were to move her hand just so—no. She would not do that. She would not allow herself to do that. Because… because in her sister's dream she already had. Because it was wrong. And also because she really had no idea what to do. But in the dream she had—and she had _forced_ herself on Anna. That was why Anna was scared of her. It had to be. Was it also why she was afraid of touching, and being touched? Had those men at the fort… had they…? Elsa found herself unable to finish the thought, retrieving her hand and staring at it, slowly turning it around as if it were an extra head or something equally outlandish.

She hugged her arms while speaking, something to keep her hands occupied and away from her vulnerable sister. "Did I…" that wasn't right. In the dream she apparently had. "I'm so sorry Anna, I would never, ever force you t—"

"Dream," Anna said as firmly as she could. "Not real. Only scary."

Elsa exhaled in relief. Until she realized she was too afraid to ask if that part of the dream was related to her sister's time in captivity. Her courage extended only so far—and Anna was talking, asking about something.

"Talk about you," Elsa stiffened, then relaxed. She had to do this, she wasn't going to lie to her sister any longer, about anything.

"What would you like to talk about?" Elsa tried to phrase the question as neutrally possible, fighting to keep her voice even. Anna managed to ruin that composure in approximately three seconds.

"Who you like. Girls? Boys? Both?"

"I—" and there Elsa had to stop and take the time to actually consider that question—for the simple reason she'd never actually thought to ask it herself. All she had asked herself were questions about hypothetical situations involving Anna not being her sister, or not being a woman. She recalled asking something about Hank, and Søren, but most of her questioning had centered around her sister. It was actually a rather strange thing to consider. Then there was the way she had been distracted by miss Ostberg-Lang's hair during the last council meeting. When Elsa eventually answered the question her words surprised even her.

"I don't know."

"Don't know?" Anna echoed, more than a little curious.

"I think I like men—I know I'm supposed to—but then I have to admit to being intrigued by a few women as well," there was a pause that Elsa just let hang in the air, shifting her weight and buying a little more time. "And then, Anna, there's you."

"Me?" the tone was halfway between indignation and affection, and Elsa realized that she could possibly have phrased her delivery a little better. She had meant to single her sister out to elevate her above the others, but she belatedly realized that phrase could also be used to do the exact opposite.

"I think about you a lot, Anna. Like _that_ , sometimes," Elsa was ashamed to admit it, and turned away to hide her growing blush and fearful look. Anna already knew this, but it was still hard to admit it to her.

"Think about others?" Anna asked, gently laying her hand on top of her sister's. "Like _that?_ "

Elsa considered the question briefly. She had not fantasized about Hank, or Søren, or anyone, to the same level as she did with Anna. But she had not known them nearly as long either. And neither was she overly familiar with either man. When she answered her sister, the honest truth felt like a lie. She had no idea why it did, it just did. "I do, sometimes."

"Think about me more…" Anna gave her sister's hand a gentle squeeze, and Elsa turned to look at her. "It's okay."

"Having these fantasies about you is okay?" Elsa was incredulous. "I shouldn't even be thinking things like this. We're sisters. _Sisters_. And I want… by the Divine, Anna; I _want_."

"It's you. Okay if it's you," Elsa blinked upon hearing those words. Then she blinked some more just to make sure she was awake. Then she accidentally dusted the room with powdered snow. Anna laughed happily, throwing some off the bed. Those were not, perhaps, the last words she expected to hear from her sister at that revelation, but they were close to it. "Okay to want."

Anna placed her hand against her heart, then rolled sideways to place that hand against Elsa's chest. "You want this; being close."

"Yes," Elsa sighed heavily, taking Anna's hand in both of hers. "But I also want more. I want too much, Anna, and I never want to hurt you. I want, but I don't because it's wrong."

Anna shrugged. "Who would know?"

Elsa sighed again, closing her eyes and dropping her chin to her chest. A quiet admission that she expected no one to approve of her actions. "I would know."

There was a gentle silence as she considered what her sister had just admitted; had just suggested. She had asked 'who would know?', which suggested to Elsa that she would not object to their relationship deepening that way. She had been deadly serious too. The last few times they had talked about the issue, it had been more lighthearted, a little less serious, just thoughts and suggestions—with Anna possibly misinterpreting what her sister wanted. Elsa frowned, belatedly realizing that something must have changed within her sister for her to even begin to consider this as a serious option. That meant more questions to ask

For now, Elsa was just happy to sit in silence with her sister, holding hands, leaning back against the pillows and the headboard. Trying to move quietly, Anna shifted another of the bolsters out of the way, and sidled up next to Elsa, leaning in to her arm. Elsa moved her arm, wrapping it protectively around her sister. She wasn't about to let anyone take this moment away from them. Even if it was still snowing a little in her room. But the benign nature of the snow, the innocence its purity implied, somehow turned the tender moment they shared into something magical, and Elsa found that she was hardly breathing—still in awe that her sister could accept her after all those revelations.

A moment like that could not last forever, and eventually Elsa spoke again, asking the questions to which she equally feared and was intrigued by the possible answers.

"Why is it okay, Anna?" her voice barely above a whisper, she added something else, something that revealed how negatively she sometimes still saw herself. "Why would you let me?"

"We're close, Elsa," Anna's voice was firmer, clearer, and sadder than it had been all morning. "And because I'm scared… Scared I can't… not with… not… anyone…"

Elsa had no reply to that. It was simply too shocking, too damaging to take in at first. Elsa sat there, unmoving, for several minutes. The pieces were falling together in her mind now. The incredible bravery her sister had shown in placing her hand _there_ was the culmination of everything. When she had been held captive, the soldiers had obviously mistreated her—tortured her—and more besides. Part of it had involved degrading her, making her feel worthless—like no one would listen to her. Another part had involved violence, conditioning her to expect being struck whenever someone else was present—why she had had such a hard time allowing Elsa to get near her. And the last part had involved touch, at the very least, of both a sexual and unwanted nature—treating her body as an object, ignoring her as a person.

When her mind finally caught up with her train of thought, and her body could respond again, Elsa pressed her hands hard against her chest, leaning forward, breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes saw only the pattern on her quilt, ignoring everything else as the questions she wasn't brave enough to ask rattled through her mind. Slowing her breathing she looked up, gazing into shaded turquoise orbs. Anna was staring at her, looking very concerned. That was when she noticed the icy fractals spiralling around her, keeping the world at bay. She watched as one grazed Anna's arm, frosting her dusky skin and making her shiver and draw away.

But it wasn't out of fear. "If you… cold, Elsa. Cold. Can't hug you… can't… better," and the Anna gave her sister a sad little smile. "You want a hug?"

She could only nod in reply, but Elsa lowered her hands, spreading her arms, trying to reign in her magic. Fractals of ice drew lines and flowers of frost across Anna's face and down her arm, over her nightdress. She shivered with the cold, but Elsa knew that wasn't going to stop her. She was unafraid. Elsa was still afraid of hurting her, afraid that those lines of frost would become permanent, but she couldn't find the words to stop her sister. Deep down, she knew she would not let the magic harm Anna—and on good days, like this, the magic obeyed her wishes. Then, when Anna all but fell on her, dragging her down the headboard so they were both nearly lying flat again, everything thawed.

Anna was nearly on top of her, and Elsa stilled. They were so very close, and she wanted to reach out and touch her sister so very badly. But she didn't. It was not that she could not move, but that she simply did not want to. This was a moment for Anna to decide the meaning of, and Elsa wasn't going to influence her any way. Anna drew closer, and Elsa noticed the curve of her cheek, the freckles across her nose, half-lidded eyes and lips tantalizingly parted. Elsa closed her eyes; what would happen, would happen. It did not have to be what she wanted—what she not so secretly longed for—but it had to be something. Any—

Warm, soft lips pressed tenderly against her own, and all thought fled from her mind. She was involved only the present, the glorious present of being kissed, and kissing back. Except that there was nothing there, and a bitter disappointment began to fill her; a disappointment she did not truly understand. She dared to open her eyes, and in that moment Anna pressed a finger to her lips, instantly quelling any protest. The kiss had been gentle, loving, and almost chaste. Anna smiled at her, and spoke softly in the still morning air.

"Thank you."


	51. Wild Hearts

Lying back against the sheets, Anna pressed herself into her sister's side. She had kissed Elsa, again. Her sister had looked so damn worried, so scared… but then, just before the kiss, something had changed. She had had an expression of pure grace and acceptance. It was the kind of beauty words could not describe, so Anna didn't even try. Instead, she thought of what Elsa had told her, trying to understand just how deeply those feelings ran. It didn't change the way she thought of her sister, not really, it just allowed her to see certain actions in a new light. Some things now made a lot more sense. But Elsa's earlier answer had her a little confused.

She had asked her sister who would know, a tacit permission for them to… do things. Elsa's reply that she would know—even if no one else did—revealed how much she disapproved of her own desires. It was disappointing to see how much her sister denied her own wants, but Anna understood why. While her question had been earnest, and the intent behind it pure, Anna knew that her sister didn't expect her to share those feelings. Because, in all honesty, she could not see Elsa in that way. She knew, objectively, that Elsa was beautiful, but it was a beauty she appreciated, rather than wanted. She envied that beauty a little—because even with everything that had happened to them Elsa remained the poised and graceful queen.

Anna knew her sister saw her under a different light. She knew enough to know that she herself was an attractive young woman, but it was a fact she paid little mind. Like the fact she had red hair. Or a habit of tripping on the hems of long skirts. Elsa, of course, had been paying a lot more attention to that fact—that she was attractive, not the tripping over thing—but that didn't seem right. Elsa was not that shallow. More likely, it seemed, Elsa wanted someone she could be close to, in all ways. Yet she still held herself back, she always had, and the only times she had actually touched Anna in that way, it had been Anna's doing. It was not just that Elsa did not want to take advantage of her, or risk hurting her further. It was more that she was constrained by the rules of society and propriety. While it was not unheard of for a woman to lay with another woman, it was most certainly not a topic discussed in anyone's company—not unless you had their strictest confidence. For that woman to be your own sister… Anna sighed, her head falling against Elsa's shoulder. Why did things between them have to get so complicated?

Like why did she have to be so afraid of touch? Even from her own sister—even now, a little. Her courage had broken, and the tears that fell when she told Elsa to force that hug upon her had been cleansing, but it hadn't cleared the last of the nightmare's effects from her mind. So she had gathered her courage, taken her sister's protesting hand, and in no uncertain terms, told her—without a word needing to be said—what the most disturbing part of that nightmare had been. Then Elsa had apologized, for something that happened in a dream, and Anna found herself smiling. It seemed so silly, but it was still heartening.

Then the revelation that Elsa had feelings for her—rather more than sisterly feelings, in fact. She could see how it happened, and she couldn't begrudge her sister's heart being a little misguided, after feeling like she wasn't worthy of love for thirteen years. Thirteen years, and the one constant had been her, coming to that door nearly every day. Then every other day. Then a few days a week. Once a week. A month… and then, not until after the funeral. Maybe once or twice a month after that, because she knew—even without being able to talk to her sister, or see her for more than a few moments—that Elsa needed something, someone, to be her center. A rock to cling to in times of need.

Anna had always been that, without even realizing it. She knew now, of course. Elsa had opened up to her—and only her. They were sharing everything. Almost, everything. There were still secrets, she didn't think Elsa would reveal them all at once, and some were likely being kept to protect the both of them. She didn't mind, so long as she was given a good reason as to _why_. And the reason why Elsa had kept her desires hidden? Anna could only guess at that, but she had an idea that her sister thought she would disapprove of such thoughts, and might even break any further contact between them. But she could never do that. Never. Anna could no more abandon her sister than she could fly… although, with enough speed and a pile of snow to land in… she smiled at the errant thought.

Her face fell when she remembered what Elsa had told her—the last time she had flown into piles of snow. When they were five and eight. Two little words that were now enough to send a chill down her sister's spine whenever she heard them. 'Catch me'. Innocent, playful, and life changing. Because of one little slip, Elsa thought she had failed. Anna knew her sister well enough to know these things. To know she still felt responsible, in some way, for everything that happened after. Especially the ice palace. And the frozen heart. Anna had forgiven her, of course. She knew they were accidents. But it was also clear that Elsa hadn't managed to forgive herself yet.

Only then did Anna realize she was distracting herself—from the revelation that her sister did not just love her, but might be _in love_ with her. It was more complicated than she wanted to admit, but Anna was willing to help her sister though anything. Including this. Even if it did mean… eventually… touching each other in that way. She just wasn't sure her heart would be in it. Not in the same way Elsa's would be. She would let it happen, but, she just didn't—couldn't—see her sister in that kind of light. Despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite having seen each other naked, and appreciating their bodies. And even despite a strong curiosity to know if Elsa still even could feel anything between her legs.

It was more than a mere curiosity. It was a sisterly concern of the deepest kind. From her reading—and her own experiments—she knew it to be a pleasurable experience. One she had sought in her own company a number of times. And one that Elsa had had, once, asleep, in her company. But the interesting thing was that Elsa had not touched herself at all during her dream. Anna wasn't sure what that meant, but she knew that if Elsa did ever lie with someone—Hank, perhaps, given their closeness, although less likely given his stuffiness and properness about everything—then she wanted to be sure Elsa could enjoy herself. Like that. Because after everything she had gone through, Elsa deserved to be happy—that kind of happy. At least once or twice. Or however many times a night she wanted, and Anna blushed at the thought of her sister lying with another person. She still smiled, because in that little flash Elsa was happy. And when Elsa was happy, Anna could be happy—happier, not having to worry about her sister.

"You love me," it was a statement of fact from Anna, wrapping her arm around her sister's shoulders. "In love with me?"

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing. And a sudden knock at the door. Followed by a familiar voice, one Anna had heard admonishing her nearly every morning when she was younger. A voice, she thought sadly, that was more familiar than her mother's. More familiar than Elsa's voice, even. Gerda, asking if she was up, asking if Elsa was up. Elsa had replied in the affirmative. Anna stifled a yawn before replying, realizing that it was quite late in the morning, and she hadn't had anything to eat yet.

"'s'okay, breakfast up for hours," she blinked. That had most certainly not sounded right. It didn't matter, hearing a short, happy laugh ringing from behind the door. It was apparently enough to reassure the castle's head maid, and she seemed to leave without further comment. Anna frowned. Her sister normally had queenly things to do every day, and it had taken quite some planning to have a day dedicated to her. But right now it seemed as if the servants were being far more discreet and deferential than usual. Which meant something was decidedly afoot, and she intended to be part of it—even if just for the sake of being included in the conspiracy.

For now there was the matter of breakfast, and of the question she had expected an answer to. That Elsa had not supplied one was a little concerning, so Anna gave her a little nudge. Elsa shivered, doing her best to draw herself upright while keeping Anna close. Slender fingers pressed tenderly under her chin, and Anna raised her eyes to meet the crystal blue orbs of her sister. She stilled as Elsa drew in a deep breath, preparing to speak.

"I—" Elsa started, opened her mouth to say something else, decided on something different, closed it, and tried again. "I—Well, maybe. You asked if I'm _in_ love with you Anna. I love you, still, like a sister. But a part of me loves you more. I really want to express that, but… it's wrong. And… and… I don't know if it's love, or just… lust, I guess is the right word. I'm sorry if any of this makes you uncomfortable, but I'm done lying; keeping secrets. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm going to be brave, like you always are."

Anna felt her sister's hands fall from her chin, slowly crossing over to hug herself. She watched as Elsa first averted her gaze, then turned her head aside, closing her eyes. She watched a bright blush colour Elsa's cheeks as a different kind of snowflake seemed to fall from the ceiling. Large snowflakes, perfectly formed. She caught one in her hand, noting that it was larger than a normal snowflake, and purest white.

"Elsa?" she gently questioned her sister, holding the snowflake between them as a bridge to rebuild. "It's different…"

"Different?" Elsa echoed, more than a little confused, inspecting the snowflake her sister held, peering at it from all angles, but not touching it. Not risking touching her, Anna noticed.

"Elsa, take it," Anna pushed her hand forward slowly. "It means something. You won't hurt me."

Anna fought back a smile at seeing how gingerly her sister was moving. It was adorable, and a little frustrating, but she loved the tenderness, the grace, of those movements. Elsa held the snowflake between her thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light. It was so small, and in a flash of magic it changed from white to crystal, casting a rainbow about the room. Elsa dropped it in surprise, and Anna picked it up. The snowflake turned white again, frosting over before the colour solidified. Anna tilted her head, fascinated by this new development. She was lost for words.

She still wondered how closely the magic was linked to her sister's desires and needs. Or maybe just her feelings. Depending on her mood, Elsa's magic had a tendency to change form in some manner. But this change, as far as she knew, was unique to her. A softer, gentler magic. Snowflakes that felt fluffy, falling in absolute silence, somehow spreading light around the room. Even her sister's unconscious magic was sublime. Then again, during those happy moments they shared, it always had been.

* * *

Søren Skjeggestad felt like an empty shell of a man. Several years ago he had lost his wife, Sylvi, to a night-time attack while she walked home from his workshop. His world had fallen apart for a few months, but eventually, with the help of the guilds, and a few kindly words from the King, he had managed to pull himself together. To remind himself that he was still a father, and still had a quickly growing young man to care for. He had a responsibility, and by ignoring it he had been insulting the memory of his wife. He ran his hands through his hair, fiddling with the length of his ponytail. Four years—he had managed to survive without Sylvi for four years. Four-and-a-half. He had thought himself capable of loving another person just as deeply, and he had turned his attention towards the icy beauty of Queen Elsa.

The woman responsible for destroying his world a second time. Through no fault of her own; and all of his. He had failed as a father—his son had tried to kill the Queen. He had been part of a mob intending to kill her, and from a short talk with him, Søren was convinced of his son's purposefulness. He would have done it, despite the consequences. He might have blanched, failing at the moment of truth, but the question was not whether he actually could have; but if he would have, given the opportunity. Søren sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

The guildsman shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench upon which he sat. This building was a work of art, but he still felt vaguely sacrilegious for being allowed in it. Faith had a place in his life—but it was not faith in the Divine. He believed in the old gods; gods and goddesses of magic and worldly things. Deities that actually took action against their enemies and wrongdoers. Gods that would fall at the end of the world, and be born anew in a new age. Gods that fought and vanquished Jotünn—frost giants. And a strange thought suddenly overtook him. The Jotünn had wielded powerful magics of ice and snow, so, was it possible Elsa was descended from one of _them?_

Søren blinked at the sudden shadow looming over him, recognizing the holy vestments as soon as he looked up. Bishop Gudbrand had a gentle smile on his face, but concern for the head guildsman shaded his eyes. At least, Søren hoped it was concern for him.

"You're a few days early, master Skjeggestad," the Bishop intoned lightly. "I do not normally hold sermons until Sunday."

Søren rewarded him with a humourless laugh. "No jokes, please, Gudbrand. I came seeking help."

"From any heavenly source, it would appear. I know you cleave to the old gods. I'm not about to hold it against you. Konrad was faithful to the Divine, and I'm afraid he was swayed far worse than he might have been had he had your faith."

"You don't… disapprove?"

"I can disapprove of something all I like; it's not going to change it. That's why I hold the sermons. Why I try to be seen helping in public, like the Messiah often did—and no, I would not think to compare myself to him, only that my actions are inspired by the same sense of duty to the laity. Just because you choose to believe something different to me does not mean I should scorn and ridicule you. Too many wars were started that way, my friend. I do not think the Divine ever wanted that on his hands.

"So I am open to welcoming people with differing beliefs, in the hope that one day they might believe as I do. Or at least consider my beliefs as valid as theirs. What I try to do is understand why these people believe so many different things—and why some, like Justicar Kristoffersen, and Miss Ostberg-Lang, choose to believe in nothing at all. But, I digress, it has been a long time since I have had a strong theological discussion. Perhaps I need to travel more."

"Maybe," Søren's reply was casual. "Maybe you're in the place the Divine chose for you."

"Something I'm always hopeful about, Søren. Now, you asked for my help; what is it you seek help with."

"I'm lost. I lost my way… I let my son take the wrong path because I wasn't there for him. I was so concerned with my work that I failed to be concerned about my son. I am a terrible, horrible, useless father. And because of that, my son is going to die. He's going to be executed—and I'm going to be alone. I will have no one left in this world. No one to care for me when I am old. No one to share in the joys of life. No one's burden's to ease when they are suffering. I will have no one."

Søren hung his head, hands clasped with his arms resting on his thighs. He didn't know what to do. He'd come here, just to say those words. To get them out of his system. He hadn't wanted to mean them, but he did. Every last one of them. He closed his eyes as he felt the tears welling up. Saying those words meant he had to accept what was happening as real; and accept that he could not change it. Not without throwing away his own life, everything he had worked so hard towards—he would become a wanted man, and so would his son. that was if the townsfolk didn't take matters into their own hands first. He had heard what they did to one of the men that had attacked Elsa, and his blood ran cold at the memory. There hadn't been much left for the guards to collect. He doubted he and Konrad would fare much better if they tried to flee the town.

"If you are lost, then let me be your shepherd," Gudbrand spoke so softly Søren had to look up, just to make sure something had been said. The bishop wore a soft smile, and a kindly, determined set to his features. "I will lead you from this darkness and into the light."

Bishop Gudbrand extended his hand. Søren took it in his own, standing slowly. He shook the bishop's hand, once.

"Thank you." It was perhaps the most heartfelt thing he had ever said to the other man. Hands at his side, the guildsman pondered his next move. "What should I do?"

"Spend time with your son, if the Queen will let you. If you have already, go again. Konrad deserves your love in his final days, just as you deserve his. Honour the memory of his mother—I know you sometimes used to pray at Freyja's shrine. Go there again. Perhaps you will find the guidance you seek. If you want to, you can just stay here, Søren. I'll be cleaning the rectory and the annex. No rest for the wicked, as they say."

Søren was tempted to give that comment a witty rejoinder, but he had nothing Gudbrand hadn't already heard. The Bishop had a good point about honouring Sylvi, and talking to Konrad again—painful as both those memories were or would be. He had been richer for having loved Sylvi, and while the thought of having lost her so violently still cut deeply, memories of her were now a source of solace instead of pain. They had married young, against his parent's wishes, but they hadn't known she was already with child. He had apprenticed as a blacksmith, picking up the trade easily, earning barely enough coin to cover everything they needed, including a roof over their heads, both their parents having kicked them out.

Sylvi had been realistic about their chances of making it through the first year, after their child was born. Making enough money—she'd never doubted that they would survive as a couple, or as people. Søren had managed to prove himself as a capable smith, and was soon earning more money, even taking a few small commissions when the guild itself had little work. He had learned, over the coming years, the ins and outs of the guild itself—and how similar its hierarchy was to other guilds. Soon enough he was liaising between all the guilds, and Konrad was a bouncing boy of six years. Their problems seemed so long ago. Castle Arendelle had closed mysteriously four years prior—he knew now why, as did the rest of the town.

Then Konrad had been eleven, and wanting a little more coin in order to help his family, he had taken it upon himself to start cooking. Anything that came to mind. With true entrepreneurial spirit he had sold his cooking, with mixed results. Sylvi taught him proper baking, and he picked it up so quickly Søren had insisted he try becoming a baker's apprentice. Áki Halstein had taken Konrad under his wing after tasting several of the boy's efforts. Three years later Konrad was able to almost run the shop himself. Søren's reverie was broken by the hand placed against his shoulder.

"Go to him," the Bishop's voice was gentle but firm, brooking no argument. Søren hadn't been inclined to argue anyway; he would see his son again. They both deserved the time together. Even tainted as it was by the knowledge it would not happen again. They would make the most of the time they had left, and then, even though it would be the hardest thing to do, they would say their goodbyes.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye Hank watched his current opponent, a palace guard by the name of Terje. He held his sabre in a high guard while Terje adopted a middle guard. Hank's blade dropped, a diagonal strike from shoulder to hip. The guard countered, wrapping his blade around Hank's, forcing him to either step back or release his blade. Hank stepped forward, out of line with the attack, and struck with his free elbow as he wrenched his blade free. The guard ducked back, lashing out with a rising strike. Hank turned it aside with ease, rolling his blade around his hand, turning the motion into a lunge. The tip of his sabre pressed against the guard's breastplate.

"So, they teach you more than just gunplay in the fusiliers," Terje commented, sheathing his sword. "Impressive work, master Erikson. I have somewhere else to be—your ward approaches."

Hank turned, returning his sabre to the scabbard at his hip. Sure enough, Queen Elsa approached from across the courtyard into the training ground the palace guards shared. She wore a sleeved dress of purple so deep it verged on black. Rosemaling in Arendelle green and royal blue decorated the hem and bodice. It seemed incongruous compared to the lighter, freer dresses he'd seen her wearing on previous occasions. Her hair was also pinned back in a tight bun, but a few strands of hair refused to be tamed, taking nothing away from her beauty or grace. As she wheeled her chair towards him, he took notice of the young woman—princess—walking beside her.

Anna's hair had been gathered and braided into tight curls, wrapping around her head like a laurel wreath. The rest of her hair had been gathered into a tight bun, pinned in place by two small wooden sticks. It seemed exotic, but not at all strange for her to be wearing. The rest of her outfit was rather more reserved, a simple pinafore dress in pale green, worn over a short sleeved white blouse. She smiled, a fleeting expression replaced by an anxious look. There was a scar around her wrist, and Hank was forcibly reminded that she had been tortured by soldiers from Weselton.

The young princess stood formally in front of him, and he crossed his right arm across his stomach, feeling a slight twinge in his side as the muscle pulled when he bowed. He hid his grimace with a smile, wondering why Elsa was looking so severe this morning, and why Anna seemed to be holding herself apart from him—more than royal deference would indicate, at any rate. Then she raised her hand and gave a little wave, trying her best to smile. He could see the effort it took her to do only that.

"Hi," it came out as a breathless whisper, the huskiness of the princess's normally clear tones a great surprise to him.

"Hello, your highness," Hank replied, bowing again; then directing a bow towards Elsa, he added: "Your majesty."

Anna stepped back to her sister, whispering something in her ear. Elsa quietly asked if she was sure. Anna nodded in the affirmative, stepping closer to Hank again.

"She trusts you," Elsa began, and Hank gave her his full attention. "You saved my life, and after we returned, on the morning you saw her in the halls, you helped her far more than you might ever know. So, she wanted to thank you in person, properly, for your devotion to the kingdom"—Hank noticed here how Anna glared at her sister, forcing her to change a few words—"your devotion to protecting me. You may not yet have realized this, but since my injury on the fjord I have become rather less interested in pomp and circumstance for their own sake—only when they serve a means to an end. So, the ends today is helping Anna recover her voice, and we'll start with a formal introduction."

Elsa smiled, and Hank felt uneasy. Had he really earned the right to be a part of this? Any protest died on his lips as Anna curtsied—almost curtsied—when Elsa began speaking again.

"I give to you princess Anna, of the line of Arendelle, Royal Princess and Heiress Presumptive," Elsa waved her hand, and Anna took the cue, nearly tripping as she curtsied as properly as she could manage with one arm and her usual lack of grace. Hank smiled, it was earnest, if unpolished—then he noticed Elsa waving at him. "I give to you former lieutenant Henrik Erikson, of the Royal Marine's Third Fusiliers. He now serves as Queen's Protector to myself; and I owe him my life."

That was not part of the usual formula, but Hank accepted the compliment graciously. "The Queen is too kind. I was merely performing my duties to her. As, apparently, I will be now."

"Actually…" Elsa trailed off slowly. "You'll be serving the Royal Princess today. Don't worry, she promised to go easy on you."

A worried look crossed his face as he looked between the sisters, and Hank knew he'd walked into a perfectly baited trap. Queen Elsa definitely had some guile she could put to good use.

"What would you have me do?" Hank addressed his question to Princess Anna, expecting her to answer in the rambling way he'd been told she sometimes spoke.

"Help me." Her speech was clipped, and he could see the slight strain on her face as she spoke. This was not what he'd expected. From what he'd been told in the past he had expected to be led on some kind of 'adventure', preventing Anna from doing anything too dangerous. This seemed rather more serious, and he recalled the effort it had taken her to hug him a few days ago.

"What do you need help with, your highness?"

"I'm scared." It made sense, considering the trauma he thought had been inflicted on her—and others that he hoped had not been, but might still have happened. She continued talking. "Scared of soldiers. Everybody. No… no touching. You helped. I hugged a real soldier. Not a monster."

Her short speech done, the Princess smiled brightly, holding her hand just beneath her waist. Hank was sure if she'd still had both hands they would have been demurely clasping each other. He took some time to process what she had said—and what she hadn't said—before forming any kind of reply. What she had been through was a traumatic experience, and the result of that was that she was now afraid of being touched—or perhaps of touching people—in general, and afraid of soldiers in particular. But she was also actively seeking help, and exposing herself to experiences that could easily trigger her fears, or memories of what had been done to her. That took the quiet kind of strength few people applauded or appreciated, but that many understood and wanted in their own dark moments.

"Your courage and resolve in being able to simply face me, let alone talk to me, is nothing short of inspiring, your highness."

Anna let out a quiet laugh that sounded suspiciously like 'so stuffy', and Elsa admonished her with a sharp look. Not at all chastised, she mouthed something that made the Queen blush, quickly averting her eyes. Hank was left wondering just what had passed between them. Then Elsa asked her sister if she would be comfortable to accompany Hank for a while, while she attended to her duties as monarch. Anna gave a tentative nod, then a little head shake, and then she looked directly at Hank, questioning.

"I will keep her safe," he directed his statement towards the Queen. "Even from myself, should it be necessary. If the Princess grows uncomfortable, or communicates to me her discomfort, I will make all due to haste to return her to your presence, Queen Elsa."

"Anna, is that acceptable to you?" Elsa addressed her sister, who nodded enthusiastically. "Then it's settled. I will try to catch up on the work required to run a kingdom, and you will enjoy an afternoon in the company of my protector and saviour. Both of you." Elsa turned her chair, and slowly wheeled herself back towards the castle's main doors.

"What would you like to do, your highness?" Hank wasn't sure of the protocol for taking care of a princess, sister to the woman he seemed to be developing feelings for, and a highly adventurous young woman besides. He thought it more likely she would lead in some activity, and he would follow, keeping at a respectful distance.

"Stuffy," came a curt reply, followed with a mischievous smile. "I'm Anna. Train me to fight."

"Train you to fi—what!?" Unsure of whether or not he had heard things correctly, Hank had been repeating what Anna had just said—until he realized what she'd actually said. And that she meant it. He was forced consider the fact that most royalty—male, royalty—was expected to be capable with a sword. For duels and the like, but the skills were traditionally necessary, and Anna had a better case than most other royals ever would. It seemed wrong for her to want to fight—she should never have been placed in such a precarious position in the first place.

That was the past. What was done, was done, and Hank was wise enough to know that this was the way the young princess had chosen to cope with what had happened to her. He'd seen it before. After terrible battles, some soldiers collapsed, some left, too ashamed of themselves or their comrades, some placed their grief on the shoulders of others. And some, some of them threw themselves into the fray with renewed vigour and amazing courage—because they now knew where they belonged. In the thick of things, protecting their friends—or killing their enemies. The kind of soldier he knew Gerhardt wished every man to be.

But Anna was no soldier. She had no prior training, no discipline—military discipline, at any rate—and also seemed to lack a few important points of finer judgement. But she was also earnest, honest, brave, determined, and more than worthy of being trained in the art of combat. She had earned that right through steel and blood. He could see the scar around her wrist, the slowly healing scars of her right arm, the slight bruising around her lower lip, and the tiny, almost dainty scar there. And although he wanted to, for a great number of logically sound reasons, Hank found he could not refuse her request. He would teach Princess Anna how to fight. With Elsa's blessing.

"Does the Queen know of this?"

"Wanted your help. She knows." But the furtive shifting of Anna's eyes, and her uncertain smile gave away her lie. She saw, when she looked up, that Hank knew she was lying. "Okay. Tell her"—she cleared her throat softly—"I'll tell her. Tonight. In case… lots of fighting. Umm… sparring?"

Hank led the way to the guardhouse of the castle, holding the door open to allow the feisty young redhead through first. He had no idea how to train a young woman, let alone a princess, whose only exposure to combat had been getting kidnapped and somehow fighting back. He also had little idea of how to train a warrior with only one arm, especially in any sword technique. He wasn't even about to consider any ranged weapons—just far too dangerous. But a short sword might work, it would be light enough, and she certainly seemed like she would be fast enough to use it effectively. It was just a pity she would be unable to combine it with a shield, dagger, or other sword.

That also meant she would have a great weakness in a fight, in that her right side would be almost defenseless. Most opponents she faced would probably target there first. He might even do that himself… just enough to dissuade her from continuing this foolish training. He didn't want to see her hurt. He was also surprised he could see her as a warrior at all, not just a princess, but it made sense somehow. It was just her way; she was what she was, and no one could take that away. And she really shouldn't be swinging that aro—too late. Hank winced at the horrendous clattering noise.

Anna's face burned with embarrassment as she put the war hammer away, bending low to collect the shields she had knocked loose from the wall. Her voice was subdued when she spoke. "Sorry."

"No, your highness, I'm sorry. I should have told you what to look for here."

"What?"

"Short swords, your highness. With dulled blades. Training swords that the palace guard use."

"Oh," Anna sounded more disappointed than surprised, quickly retrieving a training sword. Too quickly.

"You know your way around this room," it wasn't a question. Anna drew herself up to her full height, the top of her head just under his chin, and Hank gave her a pointed look. The facade crumpled after approximately three seconds, and she suddenly wore a mischievous grin and a knowing look. Because she had just taken a swing from a high guard that he had barely had time to evade, eyes wide with shock.

"You already know how to fight, as well, your highness. Quite ably, if I am not mistaken."

"Anna," she replied, insistent. "And yes, I _can_ fight. Sparring with guards. Elsa didn't know."

"How long, perchance, had you been training with the palace guard?" Hank was genuinely intrigued now. He might not need to train the young princess at all, merely provide himself as a sparring partner. She might even be wise to his plan to exploit the weakness of her right side—especially seeing she had trained with the palace guard. He stepped sideways, retrieving a short sword from the training rack. Cold steel always had an advantages over wood during training. Weight, balance, and durability.

"Four years," Anna replied, stepping forward with a rising strike from hip to shoulder. Hank caught the blade against his, binding it with his crossguard before striking out with his foot towards her thigh. She danced away from the blow, her blade describing a complex spiral as she evaded a follow up strike. Hank was impressed. Then again, four years sparring with the palace guards had to count for something.

"Impressive," Hank launched a flurry of strikes, starting high with a backhanded slash, flicking his wrist over for a counter-strike, binding her blade against his, and with a deft twist sending it skittering across the floor. But she didn't surrender or cede the fight. Instead, she stepped closer, inside his reach, and wrapped her arm around his elbow. When she shifted her weight he was forced to either drop his sword or be thrown sideways and lose it anyway.

Then he cracked his forehead against hers, just hard enough to daze her, and she dropped his arm, taking a step back. The hurt in her eyes had nothing to do with the knock on her head. Her frown told him how unsporting she thought that move had been.

"You asked me to train you, your highness," Hank smiled, and she nodded slowly, gently massaging her forehead, muttering something about stuffiness. Maybe he'd hit her a little harder than intended. "First lesson: Anything can be a weapon. Even your body. Especially your body, because you will never be without it in a fight. Fists, feet, elbows, knees, even your head. Any of these can land an effective blow while grappling an opponent. Of course, an actual weapon is usually better." At this, Hank bent low, retrieving her fallen sword and presenting it to her as ceremoniously as possible. She wanted to call him stuffy… fine. He could play it up for her.

When Anna lifted the blade, adopting a middle guard, Hank intoned as solemnly as possible: "I know pronounce you Dame Anna, Knight of Arendelle, Land of Temporary Eternal Winters."

"Spare princess," Anna shot back, but she was laughing all the same. "Maybe knight is more fun… Sir Erikson, of the Hard Head."

They fought with passion and abandon, losing themselves to the moment. It was like a scene out of a Flynn Rider book, exchanging strikes and colourful insults with equal frequency and force. All variations on stuffy sounding knightly names and titles. Anna seemed to be winning that one with 'the Honourable Sir Proper, of Manners and Courtesy'. Hank's riposte of 'Dame Carrot, of the Most Noble Order of Animated Vegetables' fell on deaf ears. His strike to her right side, however, did not. She howled in sudden pain, dropping her sword and falling to her knees. He hadn't hit her anywhere near that hard.

Breathing somewhat raggedly, Anna looked up at him, and her eyes were not full of pain or betrayal as he thought they might be. There was a little fear, but it was mostly concern for him. Rubbing her side, she stood slowly, casting about for something to sit on. Hank retrieved a chair, and she sat. Her fingers tenderly began to explore her side, and she winced when she pressed against her lower ribs. Hank hung his head. In his enthusiasm for the fight, he had managed to injure the royal princess. Wonderful.

"Not your fault." Not what he'd been expecting to hear. "Hurt—kicked when I was kidnapped. Something broke, maybe. Not your fault."

"I—It's not my fault?"

"No, stupid. Already hurt. Hurts to touch, so a little hit really, really hurt," Anna sighed, standing slowly. "Help me to the physician."

"Are you okay to walk, your high—Anna?"

"Less stuffy. Good. I think… think I'm okay." And with that she began to walk to the door. Hank followed, opening it for her. She looked back over the room, and he followed her gaze, taking note of several overturned or fallen items he would have to set right when he returned. Anna started walking again, apparently lost in thought. She smiled, talking to herself. "It was fun." She smiled again, rubbing her side, continuing towards the castle. Hank would see her to the physician, then he would talk with Kai—if he could find the man—before talking to Elsa. Hopefully by then Anna would have been able to tell her side of the story, meaning his explanations would not be breaking anyone's trust.

He needn't have worried. Kai sent him away with a knowing smile. The portly head servant apparently knew every dirty secret contained within the castle, barring a few highly non-specific cases he was entirely close-lipped on. When he met with Elsa afterwards she had been more jealous than angry, understanding that the strike against her sister had been, if not an accident, then at least not intended to cause any real pain or damage. He hadn't known—because Anna had omitted to tell him, at which the sisters exchanged dirty looks for some reason—so he couldn't be blamed. This time. By the time he'd been dismissed, following the conversation the Queen and the Princess had been having, alongside their conversation with him, he was sure he was missing some vital piece of information, some subtext that would allow all of this to make sense.

The only problem was he didn't know what that information was, or why it made the royal sisters treat each other differently than they had when he'd first met them. It was odd, because they seemed at once more tender and caring, but held themselves further apart. Light brushes of physical contact seemed to startle them—although it was strange that Elsa would start more than her sister. There was something going on between them. He wanted to help, but he wasn't sure how to—or even if he should, in this case. He resolved to sleep on the issue, that might give him the perspective he needed.

But that was for later. For now he planned to use the money anonymously deposited in his trunk for a meal at the Golden Crocus—finest eatery in all of Arendelle. He'd never been there because it was so expensive. Also because only the monied went there, to talk of money, and contracts, and all things business. Those people were not normally from Arendelle. They weren't normally brokering deals in its favour either. His father had been quite specific about that little fact when he spoke of the place. It was where he'd met Hank's mother for the first time; he'd been rewarded by the King for his service to the kingdom. Hank smiled at the memory of better times. Maybe, if the stars were right, he could make some memories like that himself. Memories shared by the Queen of Arendelle…


	52. Dinner and a Show

Nikolaus regarded the marines assembled in front of him. The best men in the Southern Isles, serving as the contingent aboard his flagship. They would save Frederik, because he had obviously managed to get himself captured. As crown prince he was immune to many things—but there were also many things the Duke of Weselton did not respect. Royalty was one of them. That was why the marines had orders to take the ship, by any means necessary. Take out the flagship, and turn it on the rest of the fleet while the _Victory_ herself prepared a full broadside for the other second rates in the Duke's fleet. It was convenient that the Duke had anchored his vessels so closely together, the fires would spread that much more easily. And that was before two cutters would be made into fire ships… and filled with powder.

"Marines, you are the finest fighting men the Southern Isles have ever produced. Through training you were born again as warriors, forged in the fires of battle and tempered by the unforgiving mistress of the sea. You are likely to be outnumbered in the coming battle, but I know that each of you is worth at least five fighting men from any other nation; and today we do not face _any_ other nation, but Weselton. Where that lousy kingdom is concerned you must be worth at least ten of their men!"

The marines gave a rousing cry, standing to attention.

"That's what I thought. We strike tonight, under cover of darkness. The moon is nearly full, but there is a change in the wind. There is hope that cloud will mask the moon's light before we set out on this mission. If not, we strike anyway. Weselton will learn that no one is allowed to mistreat the Westergard family with impunity. And my brother will learn—has hopefully already learned—that the Duke cannot be trusted as far as he is thrown. And a month's wages to the man that gets the best distance out of him."

Much good natured banter followed that remark, along with a quiet round of wagering. Nikolaus smiled. He would be rescuing his brother, again. He would not fail to remind Frederik of that fact either. It had always been the way when dealing with Weselton, ever since the death of their mother. She had been a tempering influence on the crown prince. Unfortunately Princess van Altena was no longer alive to stay her son's hand. Nikolaus knew it was harder for Frederik, because he was convinced that either the Duke, or his lackey Count Langenberg, had had something to do with their mother's death. Then Nikolaus noticed the marines staring at him. He had a speech to finish.

"The Duke must be taken alive, remember that. We are attempting to board and capture the Second-Rate vessel _Independent Trader_ , which serves as his flagship. My brother—your prince—is likely being held in the brig by the Duke. He is the true objective of this raid. The capture of the ship will merely help facilitate his rescue—and demoralize the Weseltonian fleet. The _Victory_ will fight the other Second-Rates, while our fire ships will attack the Third-Rates. The wind will be with us tonight, and I expect to see nothing but charred timbers at the bottom of the fjord by the time this battle is done.

"We need stealth on this night, and then, when the time is right, we must explode into action. I know you will not fail me. You will not fail the Southern Isles. You will not fail."

Another rousing cry, and the marines slowly began to disperse, gathering and checking their weapons, beginning combat drills, loading spare powder into one of the cutters. It was not yet noon, but the ship was alive with activity. Most of it taking place on the windward side, away from Weselton's prying eyes. And if all went well… Nikolaus smiled. The Duke would be sailing home on a rather smaller boat.

* * *

Frederik was alone in his cell. The marines of his team were caged opposite him. They could nearly touch hands, if they pushed their arms as far as possible through the iron bars. It meant the plan would work. Tonight, when the moon rose high. Langenberg thought he had relieved them of all their weapons, and none of them had disabused him of that notion. Only a straight razor, but still enough to kill a man. Frederik hadn't bothered to ask where it had been hidden—or even if it had been taken from somewhere on the ship. Let the men have their secrets.

He wasn't overly concerned about Count Langenberg either. Pompous little man was more bark than bite, and while his threat was serious, Frederik planned to settle the issue by shooting the Count first. Justice for the Altena family. A family he had nearly been part of, nearly joined with his own royal line. Minor nobles, but holding a controlling stake in this new railway business. It had been fascinating to hear Lysanne talk about the potential of this new mode of transport, just as it had been fascinating that the controlling stake in the company was held by her, and not her father—an older man, ailing in mind if not in body.

The scar running down his face twitched, and Frederik was reminded of who it was that was responsible for the death of his betrothed. He knew she likely wouldn't have supported this act of revenge he had decided upon, but that was her nature. She would have seen the Count destroyed by his own vanity, left penniless, his reputation destroyed—a far crueler end, but she was a business woman, not a soldier, after all. He could pass off killing the Count as a mercy, of sorts. An added bonus was how much it was likely to hurt the Duke—and that brought a savage grin to Frederik's lips. He would have his revenge, but not until tonight. Not until his men were safely at his back, armed and dangerous once more.

Only then would he strike. Only then would he seek justice for Weselton's great betrayal.

* * *

The Golden Crocus was elegant, richly appointed, and even the chairs were worth more than what he made in a year. Hank was sure of it. He wore full dress uniform, with medals and braid as appropriate to his station and service, but he still felt horribly under-dressed compared to all the men wearing tailored suits of wool, linen, and other, richer, fabrics. There was even a Manchu elder-statesman wearing a shirt that appeared to be made of silk finer than any Hank had ever seen. A dragon motif was somehow worked in black threads against the crimson weave of the shirt. Probably worth more than I am, he mused, a wry smile twisting his lips. Just like everything else in this place.

"Ah, lieutenant Erikson," the doorman greeted him, already sounding overly familiar. "Your guest will be arriving within the hour."

"My… guest?" Hank frowned in consternation. The note, left with the money deposited in his trunk, had said nothing about another person dining. The revelation put him on edge immediately. He knew it wouldn't be Elsa—she was busy running Arendelle and helping her sister recover. Ingvar was unlikely to be able to afford something like this—although it would be just his style, making Hank as uncomfortable as possible while showing him a good time. That meant he really had no idea who had placed the money in his trunk. He hadn't even recognized the handwriting on the note—but that could easily be explained by having an assistant write it out.

Hank walked briskly to his assigned table, near a window facing the docks. He sat, taking in the decor. Even the walls looked rich. Dark woods with swirling grains, met at waist height by a deep red velour. Narrow pillars became arched buttresses as they met the high ceiling. There was a large mezzanine level above, accessed by a sweeping double set of stairs opposite the restaurant's entrance. Plush carpet in rich, dark purple followed the sweep of the stairs. Chasing the outside of that carpet, serving as a fine trim, was the repeating design of a trio of crocuses, woven in gold thread into the carpet itself.

Turning his attention to the menu, Hank still felt horribly out of place. This was a place for the monied, the movers and shakers of commerce and industry, and maybe a few of the lesser nobles to strengthen ties. Not a place for soldiers receiving anonymous donations and recommendations on where to dine. Even if said recommendation had told him to wait until rather later than the normal dinner service. It had not, however, said anything about company. Of course, that company had the right to dine with him—they had provided the money, after all. What said company did not have, was the authority to order him around. Hank answered only to the Queen now, and found himself in a strangely privileged position. Which his guest, currently seating himself with a good view out the window, obviously hoped to exploit.

"Evening, Marshal Gerhardt," Hank's speech was a little clipped, irritated by the damper Gerhardt's presence suddenly placed on the evening. The choice of table had been interesting, however, as had his seating. Something was going to happen—what, Hank did not know, but he suspected it to be out on the fjord.

"Good evening to you too, lieutenant Erikson," Gerhardt's voice was carefully neutral.

"I should thank you for the money, and for the reservation. I had not thought to find myself eating here. Not until my later years—and only on rare occasions even then."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, lieutenant. You're a capable man, and bodyguard to the Queen herself. I would think you'd be happy, and rather richer."

"And you would be wrong on both counts, Marshal. I still receive only as much as any other lieutenant. In addition, being constantly on guard and alert for Els—for the Queen—is no easy task. Threats could be hidden anywhere; and while I doubt another attempt would be made on her life so soon, there are other dangers to be aware of."

"Such as?" There it was, Gerhardt was beginning to pry. Hank's face was an impassive mask—he had just given Gerhardt an opening to steer the conversation with, and he had made his desire blatantly obvious. Which was a problem, because Gerhardt was a capable strategist, and never acted so baldly. Something more had to be going on.

"There are many subtle and not so subtle dangers for a person bound to a wheelchair," Hank humoured the Marshal, not really revealing anything. "Queen Elsa has been elucidating these to me as time allows her. We really do live in a surprisingly dangerous world"—and here Hank decided to embellish his tale a little—"even a simple task like bathing would be a lot more complicated and dangerous without the use of one's legs. It would explain why she doesn't want to be left alone around bodies of water."

"Which makes little sense," Gerhardt responded after a brief pause. "Especially considering she could simply freeze the water before it became a problem. That is not the issue however—and your new job may be more dangerous than you realize." Gerhardt leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper that wouldn't even carry to the next table. "The Royal Princess is the key. If she is safe, Elsa will be safe. If she is not safe, Elsa will do anything to get her back. She as much as told me she would sooner see Arendelle in ashes than lose her sister. Be aware of that, lieutenant Erikson. Princess Anna will be the one you really need to protect—for all our sakes."

Gerhardt's voice rose to the level of normal conversation once again. "Speaking of said princess, do you know if she has recovered yet from her ordeal?"

"If I did," Hank replied sternly. "I would not be able to to tell you."

"So, no, then. A little more justification for tonight at any rate."

"What's happening tonight?"

"Nothing much," Gerhardt's face broke into a savage grin. "Except for the fact that Weselton will learn first-hand why our Royal Marines are the very best at capturing enemy vessels during boarding actions. Commandant Horn's speech this afternoon was quite rousing—the Third and Fifth found it especially likable. Would you like to hear it?"

"No," Hank declined politely, beckoning for a waiter. At least, that was how he had heard it was done. A man in a sober black suit, matched with a dark purple smoking jacket, approached their table. Hank could make out the crest of the restaurant on the jacket's pocket. It seemed to be an understated but ubiquitous reminder of the location he was in, both in space and in society.

When their food arrived, they ate in relative silence, talking about nothing of any real import. Distant thunder rumbled across the fjord, and Hank turned to the window. A great conflagration danced on the water, and he knew at once that the sound had not been thunder, but an explosion. He had also heard the clatter as Marshal Gerhardt's fork dropped from frozen fingers. Glancing sideways he saw disbelief marking Gerhardt's face. The Marshal uttered a single highly annoyed word before rising to leave, ignoring the rest of his meal. Hank echoed the sentiment, setting his meal aside and making haste for the docks. This was something Elsa would need to know about.

"Damn."

* * *

The light in the brig of the _Trader_ was dim, barely enough to see by, and certainly not enough to cast any shadows. But it was enough that the patrolling guards didn't bump into things, and that they would see the flash of a weapon should their prisoners have somehow acquired one. They had no way of knowing it was all for nothing, and in his cell, Frederik Westergard smiled grimly. It was time. He reached through the bars of his cell, attempting to throw a decent punch at a passing guard, who merely leaned sideways, laughing at the futile gesture.

Until the marines grabbed him and pinned him against the bars of their cell. The second guard was up in seconds, violently twisting the offending marine's arm away from his companion's throat. Threats were exchanged, and the guards just laughed, continuing their round. Frederik smiled as one of the marines nodded silently, indicating that the plan had worked. With both guards occupied by trying to deal with one aggressive marine, they hadn't seen the flash of the steel razor. Or felt the loss of their keys. It had been easy enough, but that left Frederik feeling very suspicious. Escape plans normally did not go this well. Even on a ship captained by Langenberg. Well, he would deal with that particular bridge when he finally crossed it.

The guards were facing away from them, careless. Too obviously careless. There was still a chance Langenberg had recruited idiots for his crew. Ruthless, loyal men, but not very bright. Like the gorillas serving as his bodyguards. Bait, for a trap—but Frederik was prepared to spring it. He had a feeling Nikolaus might be prepared to do something… foolish, to get him back. Even so much as to risk a war. But Frederik wouldn't—except in the case of revenge against the Count. He didn't like the thought of killing unnecessarily, and if he had a choice, he would escape by stealth, not open combat. Which was why the guards facing away from them was such an obvious trap.

So instead of knocking out the guards and taking their weapons, Frederik directed his men around the outside of the hold, mapping it out with a quick visual inspection, and assigning one man to each lantern still burning. Little glass doors opened almost soundlessly, tiny creaks of poorly greased hinges drowned out by the lapping of the gentle waves of the fjord against the hull of the ship. They all knew the plan from that point forward—and it didn't bother with the guards at all. Instead, one deck above, one of the marines had seen the quartermaster's store—full of everything, including a plentiful array of weapons. Probably the ones taken from the marines as well, and Frederik's personal weapon, a magnificent cavalry sabre.

But before they liberated their weapons they would have to navigate the crew deck, in the dim light, with angry guards chasing them. For a time. Darkness enveloped the lowest deck of the _Trader_ , and Frederik could hear the guards scrambling about in confusion. There were two heavy thwacks, a loud curse, and soft clang, followed by a distinctive thud. He had thought it possible only in the slapstick plays like the 'Comedy of Errors'—but apparently two poorly trained prison guards had managed exactly the same thing. Running into each other in the dark hard enough to knock themselves out. A quiet groan came from where they had fallen, one of the marines cursed, and there was a much heavier impact. It sounded like someone being hit with a chair leg. It hadn't been in the plan—the plan had called for maximum silence—but assuming they hadn't made too much noise, it might actually prove to be an advantage.

The stairs up to the crew deck were treacherous in the dark, and Frederik rested one hand on the railing while the other felt out each step in front of him. It was almost steep enough to be called a ladder. He rose only far enough that he could see out the hole cut into the deck to allow the passage of the stairs. The space was a lot lighter than he had anticipated, the moon at just the right angle to shine through the cargo grating on the upper middle decks and down into the crew quarters. More than enough to cast shadows, and to see colours. Like the flag at the end of the Bosun's hammock. A weasel sable—ermine, he corrected himself—countenanced against a field of gold. Loyal to the Duke. Just like everyone else on this ship was supposed to be.

Frederik carefully pulled himself onto the deck, making almost no sound. Lessons in his youth about how to maintain a solid footing while being light on his feet well worth the effort. They had also helped immeasurably with his dueling technique at the time. But right now he needed those skills for stealth, not fighting. Even if this was a trap, he would do his very best to evade it. To get off the ship all they needed to do was to get to the gun deck, and slip out one of the ports. The fjord would be cold, but the _Victory_ would not be too far to swim to. Or they could head to the edge of the ice encasing the harbour, much closer, but offering no cover. He would decide when the time came—after dealing with Langenberg.

First, however, he and his marines still needed to navigate through the sleeping crew, raid the quartermaster's store, and retrieve their weapons. A task easier said than done with nearly six hundred sailors, ensigns and ratings, sleeping in tiered hammocks across an entire deck. There was barely any room to move through, even in the central corridor between the ship's timbers. It would have been easier to go around the outside, as in the brig below, except that many of the hammocks were strung between the outer timbers of the ship and a bracing post further inboard.

They passed through the centre of the ship, shadows flitting against the hull, deck creaking as they stepped cautiously forward, tension building with every step. Frederik knew something was wrong, he suddenly felt that little tingle between his shoulder blades, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something about the quality of light from outside had changed. He could smell smoke, and heard a ferocious crackling, roar. Fire. Fire ships—Nikolaus was already putting his own plan into action. And he knew Nikolaus well enough to know that those fire ships would also be loaded with—

The explosion rocked the ship, Frederik falling heavily onto his right side, rolling down the steeply inclined deck before getting tangled in the foot of a hammock. The ship pitched back to port and he stumbled free, shouting at the marines to gather their weapons from the quartermaster's store. Stealth had gone out the window with the explosion. It was time for action, swift and decisive.

"Follow me!" He bellowed to the marines with him. "We have to catch the Count!"

The crew deck turned into a furious melee, marines and ratings fighting with anything that came to hand. Swords, knives, pans, lengths of timber, ropes, a whip—anything. Inside the quartermaster's store Frederik found his personal effects, getting into a very one sided fight with a naval rating that had a similar idea about where to find useful weapons. A knee to the stomach and a powerful right cross floored the rating, and Frederik adjusted the hang of his belt as he stepped over the unconscious man. That was when the second explosion, dangerously close, rocked the ship once more, and sent everyone scrambling across the deck in an attempt to maintain their balance.

"Hah, Westergard, I thought I'd find you responsible for this," Langenberg said casually, descending the stairs that led to the upper deck. "Such a shame that the Crown Prince of the Southern Isles was killed in the confusion caused by the attack his brother made. Won't that be the most exquisite kind of torture? Oh, do speak up, Prince Frederik; I'd hoped to hear one final witticism before I killed you."

Langenberg raised the flintlock in his right hand and took aim. Frederik ducked behind one of the central timbers, the shot sending splinters flying across the deck. He heard the clatter of something being discarded, and knew then that the Count was carrying at least a brace of pistols—possibly more—tucked under that red overcoat. One of his gorillas rounded the timber Frederik was hiding behind. It felt like punching a brick wall. His sabre was met by the massive bodyguard simply grabbing his wrist, twisting until there was an audible crack. Pain flaring through his wrist and forearm, he ran, sliding under a low hammock as a bullet chewed splinters out of another reinforcing post.

A pair of sharp, explosive reports sounded behind him as Frederik was hauled to his feet by one of Langenberg's crew. Another report and the arm holding him suddenly went limp. He turned. Langenberg's aim was good enough not to hit his own crew at such short range—especially seeing as they weren't moving. There they stood, two dozen men behind the count, jackets of navy blue, silver buttons. Each of them held a rifle, trained on the crew of the ship. Several at the back had cracked theirs open like fowling pieces, and were chambering new rounds. Three rifles were trained on the Count, until the leader of the group clocked the Count with his rifle butt. Frederik smiled. Maybe he would get his chance at vengeance at a later date. Then he groaned as his wrist flared with excruciating pain.

Leaning against one of the main timbers he couldn't make out much, not with the haze of pain descending over his mind. But he could tell the new men were marines, they spoke Norwegian, and at least one of them mentioned the names Elsa and Gerhardt. More men poured down the stairs, rounding up the crew. Frederik felt safe in approaching the initial group, cradling his wrist, making it obvious he was not a threat.

"Prince Frederik, of the Souther—" was as far as he got. Everything went black when a rifle butt struck him on the side of the head, but he distinctly remembered hearing the sound of thunderous cannon fire as he fell. Nikolaus.


	53. Outside the Council Chambers

The night was filled with burning ships. Standing at the edge of the docks, Marshal Gerhardt clasped his hands and frowned. This was most definitely not part of his plan. Sabotage had been a secondary consideration, only when the Duke—or whoever else might be serving as Flag Officer—had been taken into custody. It also meant stealth was no longer a true consideration. Even less so when the thunder of cannons reached him across the fjord. All his ships were still trapped in ice, so who was out there, firing on Weselton? Who was willing to risk starting a war over this diplomatic incident?

Elsa, for one. Vengeance for her sister. Except that she was safe in the castle, and her fleet lay at anchor in the fjord, or was several weeks out to sea. There was no way a message could reach those ships in time, not when less than a week had passed since the abduction of the Royal Princess. No, it wasn't anyone from Arendelle out there. Spain, perhaps? Minister Johanssen had said something about expecting a Spanish cutter to arrive soon to finalize trade negotiations. Possible; and Spain would be at little risk should Weselton decide to declare war—their ships and armies were better trained and equipped than those of Weselton. But it was unlikely that Spain would send ships of the line, or any large vessels at all, to escort a diplomatic courier. Perhaps a frigate, even two. Ships that could actually keep up.

Then there was the fact that two smaller vessels had obviously been used as fire ships, their wreckage littering the fjord, one Weseltonian Third-Rate sinking slowly beneath the fjord, deck and masts ablaze, generating a massive pyre as it burned. The aft quarter of another Third Rate was simply gone. Blasted to smithereens when the second fire ship had exploded, beams and timbers hanging loose, embers burning on charred ends, flames licking at the deck of the ship, sparking up the rigging and igniting furled canvas sails. Gerhardt could only imagine the confusion on the deck of that ship, their officers gone, probably taking on water, crew scrambling to put out the fires, no one in charge. Chaos that could easily be taken advantage of.

That left the enormous First-Rate that had opened the broadside engagement, crossing the 'T' astern of one of the Weseltonian Second-Rates. It had to be at least a hundred guns, probably more. It was a big ship, even at this distance, and Gerhardt knew his ships well enough to know it outmatched even the _Pride of Arendelle_. The ship she was fighting had been all but shredded by the first salvo, and he knew that meant her captain had double-shotted the guns. That meant a canny commander, or a very efficient crew. Quite possibly both, given how swiftly she was beginning to tack, bringing her starboard batteries to bear against the only undamaged Second-Rate on the water—studiously avoiding the Weseltonian flag. Intriguing.

Powder smoke began to obscure the battle, blowing in from the fjord, and Gerhardt was forced to shift position, maintaining a clear line of sight to the ships. He wished he'd had the presence of mind to pack a compact telescope, or perhaps a pair of larger binoculars. If he had those he might have been able to see the crest flying atop the attacking ship currently laying waste to Weselton's fleet. A fleet that was only just starting to respond to such a devastating attack. The remaining Third-Rate opened fire at the massive First-Rate pounding the fleet, causing what only appeared to be minor damage.

The Second-Rate that had been raked across the stern managed sporadic fire against the First-Rate assaulting it, heavy shot smashing through wooden hull and central timbers. The larger ship returned fire by battery, raking her guns across the Weseltonian ship's lower hull, holing her savagely at the waterline. By the time the smaller ship managed another round of fire, she was listing heavily to starboard, her masts in danger of becoming entangled with those of the larger ship. Rigging and yards were suddenly falling away, hitting the water with loud splashes as the smaller ship's main mast dropped like a tree felled by a lumberjack. The top half landed on the First-Rate's deck before tipping back and sliding down the side of the hull, eventually to end up at the bottom of the fjord.

The Weseltonian Second-Rate struck a white flag. Further seaward, Gerhardt could just make out a skirmish between what seemed to be five frigates, two of them maneuvering so as to prevent the other three from coming to the aid of the larger ships, all the while maintaining a sporadic, ineffective fire towards the surviving Third-Rate. Until a deck mortar landed a round that tore apart furled sails and set the forecastle of the Third-Rate ablaze. The one sided fight was slowly turning against the larger ship, Weselton having more guns in total, and now able to bring them to bear.

Only a single broadside was fired. Having suffered extensive damage, and the complete loss of at least three ships of the line, the Flag Officer finally decided enough was enough—or he had been forced to strike that flag by a boarding party of some kind. A white flag. A lull descended over the fjord, broken by the occasional crack of rifle fire, and the crackling sound of burning pitch. A single, lonely cannon boomed, and was followed by an audible splash. Smoke from the battle finished its lazy voyage over the fjord, and the tang of powder was unmistakeable.

Dark shapes dropped from the side of the Weseltonian flagship and Gerhardt felt the tension draining from between his shoulders. Two platoons of Royal Marines, dragging captives through the waters of the fjord and onto the ice expanding from the harbour. Multiple captives. Except the marines were actually helping some of those men, setting them up straight—but not releasing their bonds. A show of compassion. Those weren't men from Weselton then—which meant that whoever _else_ was in Arendelle's waters, they were no friends of Weselton—and had a vested interest in recovering something, or some _one_ , from the same flagship his own men had just raided. He began to wonder just how to present this news to the Queen, and realized he had no need to do so.

Former lieutenant Erikson stood at his side, having remained perfectly unobtrusive while they both watched what had just played out in the fjord. He had no need to tell the Queen what had happened, her bodyguard would do it for him. So Marshal Gerhardt, dressed for fine company, stepped onto the dock, climbing down the side in a slightly awkward fashion, and made his way across the frozen waters of the harbour towards the Royal Marines returning from a successful raid on an enemy flagship. There was a soft thump behind him. Erikson had leapt from the dock, landing on the ice in a low crouch, gently massaging his right side. There was a fire in his eyes now that set the Marshal on edge. A fierce and protective loyalty, one that did not appreciate being manipulated in any way.

"I'm just gathering information to enlighten El— _Queen_ Elsa about the events unfolding here, tonight."

Gerhardt caught the slip. Second time tonight, Erikson, he mused silently. I wonder if perhaps your close protection isn't getting a little _too_ close. Or maybe it's just simple adjustment; Queen Elsa doesn't seem impressed by propriety and royal deference. Not unlike her father that way—of course, I doubt we'll ever be on first name terms in _our_ meetings. That, however, was beside the point, and Gerhardt gave a noncommittal reply.

"Suit yourself, lieutenant Erikson. It could prove to be a long night."

"Then I shall simply apprise Queen Elsa of the facts tomorrow morning."

Gerhardt shrugged impassively. Devotion to duty was admirable, and he knew the lieutenant was no fool. Maybe the Queen had been more concerned by this situation than she let on during the council meeting. Or perhaps she simply had a vested interest in seeing to it that Weselton was punished properly for their actions against her sister. A sister she was willing to sacrifice her entire kingdom for. A sister she had personally rescued. A sister she had _killed_ for—the fusiliers she had taken on that mission had told him as much, and more besides. A sister she had doted on during and around the recent council meetings. One whose side she had tried not to leave as she recovered from her torture and imprisonment. Those weren't just the actions of devoted siblings… they were the actions of… no. He didn't want to entertain that thought, but it suddenly made sense. If that was true, then everything since the Great Thaw suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

"Marshal Gerhardt, are you feeling alright?"

He hadn't even realized he had stopped, so great was the revelation. Nothing was confirmed, of course, and it still could be simply highly devoted siblings; but he had his doubts. The scandal that would cause—although it was, of course, not entirely unheard of in prominent royal families, ostensibly to 'keep the bloodline pure'. Of course, being women, there was no chance of that between the Queen and her sister. Not a single word of this theory could be breathed to another living soul. Not a word.

"I'm fine, lieutenant. I just realized that our marines are bringing back a lot more prisoners than I expected."

"Exactly how many were you expecting?"

"One."

* * *

Hus av Strykejern was busy. It wasn't unusual, but Vanja Ostberg-Lang was more aware of the fact. She really wanted to be alone—like she normally was—but she couldn't be, because much as it galled her to admit, she owed Søren an apology. Possibly several, for the way she'd acted and the way she'd spoken to him. Especially about Konrad. It wasn't like her to offer anyone an apology, but when she'd started asking herself why she felt it necessary, in a vague sense, she had discovered something strange. Søren was her _friend_. Or at least the closest thing she would let herself have to one, and she didn't want to lose the former blacksmith's trust. Or compassion. Because she knew he sometimes watched her, making sure she was safe.

He was protective of all the women in his life, few though they were. Even the Queen, even after she had sentenced his son to death. Vanja huffed impatiently, setting her drink down on the table with a soft thud. If she didn't say something now—while she still had a little Dutch courage in her—she might not say anything at all. Because she did like the way Søren sometimes watched out for her, even if she didn't want to admit it. When she spoke it was with a wry grin that spoiled the effect of her words somewhat.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Søren didn't even bother to face her as he gave a sullen reply.

Vanja huffed again, annoyed that she actually cared about this relationship. "For Konrad. For how I acted in your workshop." There, done. Now it was out in the open and she could put all of this behind her—or at the bottom of another tankard.

"No you're not," Søren's voice was slightly slurred. Vanja knew he'd been drinking much more heavily tonight. He was actually trying to properly drown his sorrows. "You don't care; you _never_ cared!"

Vanja crossed her arms and stared at the table. She had to, otherwise she was liable to start a fight with the former blacksmith—and though she would enjoy the exercise, and might even win the conflict, her body would not appreciate the pounding she took in the morning. So she sat there, silently fuming, unable to think of a good reply. Mostly because Søren's words were truer than she cared to admit. But she was trying to make right, damn it, and she wanted a little appreciation for that. Which was why, when she felt a strong arm wrap around her fur lined shoulders, she didn't immediately try to throw the offender across the table.

"Maybe I–I'm just har–hard to care about."

"And maybe you should put that beer down," Vanja replied, her voice softer than usual, removing the blacksmith's arm from her shoulders. "You're lucky I didn't break the table with you."

Søren looked at his arm, where Vanja's right hand still rested. He chuckled softly, perhaps recalling the last time he'd tried to touch her while drunk. The last time any man had tried to touch her. She knew most of the rumours about her past, of course, and about how she treated everyone here. Mostly because she'd been the one to start them. She never wanted to develop those kinds of feelings, not after—not after what had really happened in her past. But maybe I am, she grew pensive. I even apologized to Søren—for something that wasn't even my fault. I don't even know why I _care_ , but I do.

Taking another draught from his own tankard, Søren seemed to reach some kind of hazy decision. "I should s–s–sleep. Did I drink that much?" He raised an eyebrow towards his empty tankard.

"You did, Raske. Be careful," Vanja took another swig of her own drink, sizing up the competition in the drinking hall tonight. There were some good times to be had. A good way to work the tension out of her shoulders, and take out her frustrations on people that either wouldn't mind or wouldn't remember getting beaten up by a woman.

"W–walk with… me," it was just above a whisper. A 'no' still rested on the tip of her tongue. Thunder rumbled in the distance—a storm was coming—but it stopped her from replying. She didn't believe in signs and omens, but sometimes—just sometimes—she knew there might be something to them. Coincidence or not, she didn't particularly want her friend—and there it was again, the annoying proof that she cared more than she wanted to—walking home alone through a storm. It would probably just make him even more miserable. Søren just stood there as she tried to come to a decision. She still needed exercise, physicality. Maybe she could convince him to at least jog, keep ahead of the storm. In the end she relented, finishing her drink before standing at his side and starting towards the door.

She still didn't know why she really cared. It wasn't like Søren was the only person she actually knew. But he was the only one she spent time with—any length of time—outside official duties. And softly, to no-one but herself, Vanja Ostberg-Lang cursed how blind she had been, and how she'd led herself on. "I'm an idiot."

* * *

"That's the last one, Justicar," Ansa handed the papers to Kristoffersen. "But how did we all miss it? How did everyone on the council miss that kind of duplicity?"

"Because we simply weren't looking for it, Ansa," Kristoffersen soothed. All in all, things could have been a _lot_ worse given Larsson's treachery. He had played the part of the bumbling scribe so well that no one thought to question him about what he did after work—or at all. That he had been appointed shortly after a period of national mourning was beside the point. His background had been checked, history and contacts, an enormous web of lies. There were other, darker possibilities. Those contacts might all have been plants, vanishing slowly afterwards, returning to Weselton, or whichever kingdom they were truly loyal to. They might have been coerced into giving Larsson glowing references. Or, worst of all, Larsson could have stolen another man's life in its entirety, groomed from an early age for exactly this position.

And now there was a laundry list of crimes he was accused of. The evidence was easily enough to see him convicted by a jury of his peers—if he had not already been judged by royal edict. Impersonating a council member. Working under false pretenses. Bearing false witness—to everyone in Arendelle, actually. Kristoffersen sighed, continuing down the list. Plotting to kidnap a member of the royal family. Plotting to torture the same. Plotting to depose the Queen. Attempted regicide, by proxy. Attempted murder of a council member—and surely Minister Johanssen would have something to say on that matter. _Two_ council members, in fact. He had of course decided to try stabbing miss Ostberg-Lang during his arrest. Resisting arrest—which, compared to everything else, seemed inconsequential.

"Torsten, have you managed to compile all the evidence and witness statements from the crowd?"

"Almost done, Justicar. Perhaps another hour—there are a lot of statements here, and I'm sorting out those that actually matter."

"Good work then. I'll leave you to it," Kristoffersen turned to his final assistant. "Ah, young Ari, what have you managed to find out?"

"A lot, sir. Most of it is political ploys masquerading behind religious justification for the assassination attempt. Most, but not all. Konrad Sørenson claims he was doing it to protect his father—here's his statement. There's not a word in there that's untrue, but it's just the way he was saying it—like he needed to justify it to himself. The others were totally convinced of the righteousness of their actions, but not Sørenson. He participated willing however—no coercion there—but I'm not sure he could have done it. Kill the Queen, I mean, sir.

"That's not to say he would not have been willing to, or that he would not have tried—which is what this trial is about, after all. It's just… well, something tells me he's not telling the truth, sir. With your permission, I'd like to talk to him further, see if I can uncover the real reasons for why he was there."

"Done," Kristoffersen's reply was simple. "I'd like to get to the bottom of this, no matter how long it takes. Weselton is not our only enemy—as Gerhardt loves reminding us, our enemies lie in all places, high and low, at home and abroad. But, Ari?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't get your hopes up. Even if it is just misguided youth and a protective family, it won't be enough to exonerate Sørenson."

"I wasn't hoping for that sir. I just wanted to get to the truth."

"Actually, Justicar, is that what _you_ are hoping?" Ansa asked quietly from across the room. "You've been fixated on Sørenson tonight, over and above the others. Even Larsson—well, over him for the last hour or so."

That was the problem with perceptive assistants, Kristoffersen sighed. They certainly knew how to read him. Søren was his friend, and Konrad was barely an adult, but his crime—attempted regicide—was so severe that the law didn't care about age, only justice. He had wanted to be wrong, for it to be some other young man with unruly red hair, but the face was unmistakeable. Telling Søren had been hard. They might not have been friends, but he respected and admired the former blacksmith's work with all the guilds. It took a special kind of man to unite that many fractious unions. Now he was going to lose his son, his only child, in a situation that could destroy his reputation. Who was going to hire a man whose son had attempted to kill the Queen?

It got worse when he recalled Søren's wife, Sylvi. Beaten, raped, and killed. Savagely so. The guards that had found her still had nightmares—one of them had been dismissed from the force, becoming a terrible alcoholic before Kristoffersen had thrown him in a cell, and then at a counsellor. That man now served aboard a merchant ship far from Arendelle, professing to liking the solitude of the ocean, the sound of the wind waves, the simple physicality of his new job. Nothing that could remind him of that horrifying night. Kristoffersen hadn't spoken to him in more than a year now.

He remembered telling Søren what had happened—not in detail—and his reaction. His insistence on seeing the body, unable to believe it really was Sylvi. He remembered too, the haunted look the guildsman had carried with him for the next year. He had fallen apart, unable to process or properly comprehend what had happened. Everyone outside—those on the council, his remaining family, his friends in the guild—all of them had been powerless to do anything to stop it. So they had called on the King, asked if there was a way he might be able to make things right—to give the guildsman purpose again. And it had worked, but Søren came back a changed man. Harder, stronger, more driven and passionate, but somehow… lacking. Like a piece of him was missing.

Kristoffersen had spent many an afternoon in the intervening years discussing issues such as that with Clarence Gudbrand. And Bishop Gudbrand had always had interesting and well considered answers. In this case, asking if he believed in the concept of soul mates, and relating an ancient Greek legend about souls being split apart at birth and forced into twin bodies, cursed to search forever for their other half in the mortal world. It had surprised him that Gudbarand would talk about such pagan beliefs so openly, but the good Bishop explained the difficulties he had first had, trying to integrate both christian and nordic myth under a single banner. There had to be temperance, he explained, a union of belief that centered on christian values—and that those values, along with the belief that created them would, in time, properly replace those generated by the nordic myths and legends.

"Justicar?" Torsten's voice intruded on his reverie, and Kristoffersen looked up.

"Sorry, lost in thought. I'm getting tired in my old age."

"Hah, a likely story—I saw you chase after those men with Bishop Gudbrand. Anyway, Ansa asked about why you're so fixated on Sørenson tonight."

"It's just hard to accept; that the son of one of my friends was willing to try and kill the Queen. I know Søren was a good father, for the most part—"

"So you're concerned about Siri, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question, coming from Ansa, more a statement seeking confirmation. Damn if these weren't the best assistants he'd ever trained. And damn if they weren't just a little bit too perceptive.

"Yes, I am," Kristoffersen sighed heavily. "It's just making me question a lot of things, a lot of decisions I made, or I might make. I just don't know what went wrong… why _did_ he stray so far?"

"That's why you're letting me talk to him again, isn't it sir?"

"Ari, I'm letting you talk to him again because you want to uncover the truth about this—like any good investigator. But I'd be lying if I said that was the only reason. It's also getting late, wouldn't you all agree?"

"You're dodging again," Torsten accused, smiling. "But you're also right about the hour. We can always finish up in the morning. We'll see you around eight, then?"

"Nine, I have a feeling I'll be late. Siri can be a real handful sometimes."

"In the mornings."

"If she didn't sleep well."

"Or got woke up."

"Okay, enough, you three. I'll see you in the morning. Let's get tidied up here."

"Justicar," Torsten and Ansa inclined their heads respectfully.

"Sir," Ari edged towards the double doors out of the room.

"Not so fast, master Stendahl… you're not getting out of cleaning duty this time," and with that, Ansa shoved a pile of ledgers into his waiting hands and gave him a shove towards the shelves lining the wall of the room.

* * *

"Dad?" the wooden door in front of Per Johanssen opened further, allowing him to see the table set for three. "You're early—and you're looking a lot better these days too. You really had me and Kaia worried for a long time."

"May I come in?" Per Johanssen smiled as his son suddenly became flustered, even after all these years, still the same old Kasper. The door opened wider still, allowing Johanssen to step through, into the main room of the house. Whatever it was that Kaia was cooking, it smelled amazing. A hint of the ocean, and crisping meat, so maybe fish—as long as it wasn't her version of lutefisk.

"Oh, and no, dad, still not yet," Kasper closed the door behind his father, sitting on the couch beside the wall.

"You know I don't have that many years left in me, and you'd still deny an old man his grandchildren?" Per Johanssen sat next to his son.

"Have you talked to Synnøve recently?" Kasper asked with a sly grin. "She's got three grandchildren you could visit."

"And I do, son, I do. I just wish you could have been as lucky as her."

"I'm not sure I'd call those three little nightmares 'lucky'…" Kasper trailed off, opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, then started again. "I know why you keep asking, and I know it's hard for you—but you don't know how hard it's been for us, especially recently, when we thought you were… when we thought you might be dying." Per Johanssen saw the shadow flickering across his son's face. He really did know how hard Kaia and his son had been trying for a child, and how much it hurt them, never seeming able to conceive. They still hoped, of course, but that light was growing dim, and wore on both of them. "So, dad, tonight, those questions you normally ask… could you please… not?"

"I understand, Kasper. It's all right. I know how much you and Kaia love each other. Really, it's all you should ever need," lowering his voice, he continued. "Maybe I am just the selfish old man Kaia thinks I am, but I just want you two to be happy—to know the joy of having and raising a child, son or daughter. Just never let her think that this means she's a failure, or less worthy—even if we all know the truth. But if we can make light of these things, isn't that a better way of dealing with life—like me being too annoying to die?"

"I know you're just trying to help, but Kaia is still a little fragile—that's why she wasn't here to greet you. We saw the physician a few days ago, and it wasn't good news."

"I'm sorry, Kasper," Per Johanssen wrapped his arm around his son and pulled him to his chest. "It's not your fault. Or Kaia's."

"But why, dad? Why us? What did we do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. You know that. You never could—even if Kaia might not be the perfect little angel you pretend she is. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. I hate to use it as an example, but look at the Queen and her sister."

"I'm not sure the Queen is that perfectly good, dad."

"She is, it's just hard to see, is all. But no one's going to argue against Princess Anna, are they?"

"No, no, they won't."

"And she nearly died at her sister's hand, lost an arm, and got kidnapped by Weselton. Tortured, too, probably, given their reputation. Do you think she deserved any of that?"

"Well, maybe the freezing thing—she was chasing the Ice Queen after all."

"Whatever you do, don't say that around the Queen, not unless _you_ want to end up as a statue instead."

"I won't tell her if you won't."

"Deal. Now, what's Kaia making tonight. Fish, I can figure that much out."

"Salmon steak, smoked and pan seared, with an infusion of a number of spices that I can never remember."

"You never were much of a cook. Remember the gala dinner of '28?"

"Oh, gods, dad. Don't remind me. And if I recall correctly, it was _you_ that managed that imaginative disaster with the boar head."

"Oh, yes," Per Johanssen rubbed his chin theatrically. "It's all coming back to me now. Something about a flan, custard, I believe."

"Gala dinner, '28, right?" Kaia called softly from the kitchen, her silken voice betraying only the slightest hint of amusement. "I know because every time you talk about my husband's cooking skills, it always comes back to that dinner. So he's lucky he married a real cook, isn't he—dear."

"Of course I'm lucky, Kaia. I found you."

"You're just saying that to keep out of trouble."

"It's a good strategy."

"Pity your father doesn't use it more often. And if you two are done with old war stories, you can finish setting the table while I serve this."

Both men stopped moving as a head of auburn hair peered around the doorframe into the kitchen. "Go on then boys, serving tray, plates, and the chateau du mont, 1789."

Just as suddenly both men were moving, the younger retrieving the requested items, the elder ferrying them to the table. It did not take long before everything was set out, awaiting Kaia serving the food. Two trips and everything was ready, Kaia serving Kasper first, then Johanssen, then finally herself. No one was touching their cutlery yet, sitting patiently with hands clasped and eyes closed, waiting for Kaia to lead them through a short grace.

The rest of the meal was uneventful, small talk and the relating of day to day issues they all had to deal with. Kaia congratulated Johanssen on his return to fencing form, and he applauded her work under mistress Hoeflor. The old bat still did a roaring business—Per Johanssen knew her to be slightly addled, but she had yet to make a mistake measuring or sewing a single garment. It was quite amazing, really.

"She's not that bad, Per," Kaia defended the old woman. "She just gets lost in her own little world sometimes. Just like you do when you're talking about trade deals and mercantile contracts."

"She's right, you know," Kasper winked at his father. "You do that sometimes at work, every now and then when we can make time to visit."

"Do I?" Johanssen asked. His son and his daughter-in-law both nodded sagely. "Teaming up against me is not fair."

"Who said anything about fair?" Kaia countered, rising from the table. "Dessert should be just about ready. Almond _kringle_ , I hope you like it."

"Okay, who did you bribe?"

"Ah, Per, we can remember things too. Just not all those numbers and names and tradable goods you rattle on about," Kaia's voice softened. "We also remembered that it's going to be your birthday in a few days. And like the good friend I am, I remember when it is, not how long ago it was."

Per Johanssen could only laugh; the not so subtle dig at his age. But it was still nice to have it celebrated, even if he wasn't getting any younger. The rest of the night went a lot better from there, even the distant thunder of an approaching storm failing to dampen their spirits.


	54. Broken

It was early in the morning, and the sunlight streaming in through the high windows of the throne room stung his eyes. Being forced to sleep on a cot in the castle dungeon, he hadn't managed to get much rest, and a fog still veiled his thoughts. Like why he had been rescued by Arendelle's Royal Marines, and not Nikolaus's forces. Especially given the chaos that was supposed to be going on in Arendelle, what with their queen having been assassinated several days ago. Of course, martial law could have descended, but he knew Arendelle was not a strongly militaristic nation, unlike his homeland.

That was when he saw her—when he saw them. The royal sisters maimed and crippled by his own flesh and blood. Both of them, Princess Anna and Queen Elsa. The Queen rolled forward sedately in a wheelchair made of ice and snow. Behind her a royal guard stepped away, clearly seeing no risk in Frederik. The royal princess stepped forwards aggressively, balling her fist, stopping short when revelation flowered across her face. Something at the back of his mind clicked into place and Frederik said the first thing he could think of, which, in retrospect, did not sound very smart.

"You're alive?"

"You seem surprised, Prince Frederik. The Duke of Weselton has now tried to kill me twice, and my sister, Princess Anna, at least once. I hear at least half his fleet lies at the bottom of the fjord. Is that your doing—trying to start a war in my sovereign waters?"

Frederik sighed heavily. Sometimes his brother's loyalty could be a curse. He was an able commander and tactician; he just couldn't see the big picture. Frederik pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration—and also to block out some of the aggravatingly bright light. It wasn't making his headache any better either. Then there was the fact he had likely been pre-judged by the actions of his youngest brother. Cursed three times over, and with no easy way out. The Queen of Arendelle would be justified in keeping him prisoner or holding him for ransom given his pedigree and the actions of his brothers.

Footsteps echoed through the room, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the Royal Princess approaching. She was squinting slightly, as if she were looking at something in the blurry distance. Frederik remained still, unsure of what, exactly, was going on. She was halfway across the room already, and the royal guard was now moving to follow her. Queen Elsa urged her to be cautious, but she just waved distractedly behind her. Then she was right in front of him, and Frederik couldn't help but see all of her.

Red hair, glowing like fire in the sunlight; hair that framed a small, delicate face. She had green eyes. Or blue eyes. He looked closer—they were such an amazing shade of turquoise that he couldn't decide if the blue or the green was actually the stronger colour. She had a rather small nose, and her face was covered in youthful freckles. Frederik could see at once why his traitorous brother had chosen her over Elsa—who was a much more classical beauty. But he forced himself to look further. To see what his brother had done. How her right arm ended five or six inches shy of where her elbow should have been. The tiny puncture marks where a large number of stitches had been removed—they would heal shortly, so they must have been removed only recently. The scarring on what was left of her arm was fading, but still visible. An intense wave of hatred washed over him. How _dare_ Hans hurt this woman. In any way.

The young princess stopped, holding herself apart from everything, and Frederik could see the fire burning behind her eyes. Even with the conservative cut of her dress—though it lacked sleeves, for what he assumed were practical reasons—he could still appreciate the modest swelling of her chest, a young woman blossoming in to true womanhood. There was her slender neck and pale throat, the gentle curve of her cheek. On her lower lip was a tiny scar, evidence of more violence against her—recent violence—and his mind turned to Langenberg. Just what had the Count done?

Her arm raised to touch the side of his face, and around her wrist he saw the scar, a fine, red line. Frederik cursed inwardly. Then he froze, because soft, warm fingers were tracing the line of his own scars, from temple to cheek, and just above his upper lip. The Princess nodded, as if coming to some kind of decision, and turned back towards the throne, conversing quietly with the Queen as she passed. Then she simply stood, fidgeting every now and then, glancing nervously around the room. It was all very enigmatic.

"Please, excuse my sister, she has been through a lot this past week and is still recovering from her ordeal," the Queen's voice was even and measured, but Frederik could pick up the hint of concern and fear it masked.

"I am quite sure she meant nothing by it, your majesty," he paused, gathering his thoughts. "As to you earlier question, I would answer that it both is, and is not, my fault that half of Weselton's invasion fleet lies beneath the waters you call your own."

"Would you care to explain that in full?" the Queen's voice was ice. Clearly she didn't like half-truths, or confused admissions.

"If I may?" getting a curt nod, Frederik continued. "I sailed here, on the _Victory_ , with my twin brother Nikolaus. We had hoped to make some kind of restitution for the actions of our youngest brother, but when we arrived the fjord was covered in ice, and ten ships of Weselton sat at the mouth of the harbour. We, that is to say, Nikolaus and I, decided to open parley with Weselton, assuming that the Duke would lead a fleet this size in person. We were wrong—he sent his lapdog Count Langenberg instead. Ruthless little bastard he is. He attempted to goad us in to attacking you, claiming you had kidnapped several of his men. I refused.

"That was when he drew his weapon, claiming that I was abetting an enemy of Weselton—and further claiming that a state of war existed between Weselton and Arendelle due to your death four days prior. I had assumed him as good as his word. You must know that while he may be incompetent in most naval matters, Langenberg is excellent at selecting only the most ruthless agents to enact his plans. I feared you dead—along with any chance of making right what my brother did to both yourself and to your sister."

"An interesting claim. Although it still does not explain why you attacked Weselton's ships while in my waters."

" _I_ didn't, Nikolaus did. I am quite sure it was meant to be a distraction to keep the men on the _Trader_ from realizing a party of Southern Isles marines was about to board. It would appear, however, that your men managed to strike first, taking advantage of the chaos my brother caused in trying to rescue me. I'm sure he will have been most disappointed to find out I had been rescued—or captured—from right under his nose. The same goes for the Count. I would dearly love to see him rot in a dark cell. A very dark cell. Underwater, perhaps. He doesn't have to be alive. Or in one piece. Not after all he's done."

"Perhaps I need to talk with your brother then, or this Count Langenberg."

"If you talk to Langenberg, your majesty, be on your guard. I wouldn't trust that stunted growth of a man as far as I could throw him. Less, in fact. Nikoluas, should you wish to speak to him, is likely to come under a flag of truce. He will honour it. We are not like our youngest brother. Nikolaus's first love has always been the sea. And mine… well, I will just say that I have good reason for hating Langenberg the way I do. And I would be more than willing to risk a war should I be able to get my revenge."

"Then it would be best you and he were separated by the greatest possible distance," the Queen then turned to her guard. "Lieutenant Erikson, make sure he cannot access the dungeons in any way—discuss it with the Palace Guard. Then find Kai and have him prepare one of the guest rooms on the second floor. Something reasonably comfortable." Then she turned her attention back to Frederik. "I am giving you a place to stay, for now. Know that I am not normally so trusting, especially with those of your lineage. And if I find out you're lying"—here the Queen snapped her fingers and icy fractals suddenly spread around the prince of the Southern Isles—"you will come to know just how bitter the cold can be."

Frederik shivered, and the fractals spiraling around him fell to icy powder. He saw the Royal Princess lean in to whisper something, and the Queen responded with a quiet word, making the princess smile and blush before she turned to leave. The Queen herself turned away a moment later, their conversation obviously over. The royal guard—Erikson—made his way towards Frederik.

"Walk with me. Nice and slow—I know all about your treachery."

Frederik sighed. If not to the Queen, then at least to her guards all the Westergard brothers had been tarred with the same brush. Yet another justifiable reason for his acrimonious parting words to his youngest brother. More than a decade they'd spent carefully building their reputation, repairing it against the sins of the past, and now one idiot brother had managed to destroy it completely. Frederik hung his head in shame, quietly following the royal guard deeper into the castle.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Anna asked when they were safely away from the throne room.

"No," Elsa replied with all the honesty she could muster. It was more than a little concerning, this entire diplomatic incident, occurring inside her sovereign territory. The fact that there were now two of Hans's brothers within Arendelle didn't help her mood either. Or the revelation that she held in her dungeon the man responsible, in the end, for everything that had been done to her sister. She didn't trust herself to not kill him when she saw him. No, she thought savagely, if I killed him that would be _mercy_ compared to what I want to do.

"No, Anna, I'm not okay. I just learned that Weselton has declared war against us, and that I should—according to Prince Frederik there—by all accounts be dead. What Hank told me of the battle this morning corroborates the Prince's story, at least in part."

"The Count?"

"Well, with that surname, he's not the Duke's son—actually, as far as I can recall, the Duke of Weselton has no heirs. Or at least, no legitimate ones. I doubt I could ransom him back in return for calling off hostilities. I cannot trust a word the Duke says, and I have to think he feels the same way about me."

"He could swim home?" Anna offered brightly, but the smile that crossed her face sent a chill down Elsa's spine. "Can he swim? Or maybe a raft—and lutefisk for company. All of our lutefisk…" Here Elsa couldn't help but imagine her sister rubbing her hands together in glee—if she'd still had both of them. She tried hard not laugh at the attempt Anna was unconsciously making to do just that. It was the closest Anna had come to her old self in days, and Elsa didn't want to spoil the moment—not when it was so perfectly _her_ that it made her heart ache. But eventually the spell had to be broken.

"Anna, that's the man responsible for everything that happened to you. Everything you can't tell me about, and everything you have already. It's all his fault. So is the attempt on my life—the one Hank saved me from. I do not doubt the Duke himself is responsible for a great deal of this, but it is the Count we currently hold in the dungeon. The Count whom I don't trust myself to question, knowing what he had his men do to you. For three days. Three. Days. I… Anna… why did I have to take so long to save you?"

Elsa felt the sting on her cheek before she heard the slap. That was definitely Anna in there, frowning adorably at her for being an idiot. It was a look she was often on the receiving end of these days. She decided to move the topic away from her failings. "I want to hurt him. Hurt him like his men hurt you. Hurt him so he knows the pain we both felt. I would… I… does it make me a bad person? That I want to do these terrible things to him? Does it make me a monster?"

Anna didn't answer at first, gently touching a finger to the scar on her lower lip. Her eyes traced the thin red line around her wrist. Other scars. Elsa watched as her sister gently pressed a hand against her tender ribs—where Hank had accidentally struck her the previous night. And though a fire burned behind her eyes, Elsa saw her sister come to a softer, gentler conclusion than she had. "No. Y–you're not monster. Not a monster. You're my sister—want to help. You always want to help. To protect me. From real monsters… like him. Like Hans." Anna cleared her throat, her voice taking on a questioning tone. "But why? Why hurt me? Why try killing… why… you?"

"I don't know, and that's what worries me," Elsa looked up at her younger sister, trying to draw as much strength as she could from the bond between them. "First the Duke sends his guards to kill me in my ice palace. Then he sends this man to try it again, using my own citizens no less—citizens I am now forced to pass judgement on. And then—" She froze mid-sentence, realizing just how much the Duke, or perhaps the Count in this case, had managed to force her hand. By using her own citizens they could judge how ruthless she might be in her pursuit of justice. How much she would sacrifice. And how quickly she would react to such an attack. Then, as an added bonus, they would see how the rest Arendelle responded to her decision. She wondered how it was she hadn't seen the trap before. Because she'd only been thinking about the repercussions if she had died—not the sequence of events that would have to follow if she lived.

Events, she was sure, that were supposed to have paralyzed Arendelle's leadership at a critical time, throwing the kingdom into chaos as Weselton's troops invaded. Throw in a crisis of succession with a missing princess and a queen that could not be risked and the invading troops might have been able to walk all over everything. It was fortunate, then, that she had decided to freeze the harbour, denying entry to Weselton's ships, troops, and other forces. Then those ships had anchored in a blockade, trying to play for time—time they knew Arendelle didn't have. But they hadn't counted on another force joining the fray. A force whose commander was willing to risk inciting war on two fronts—not that she would declare war against a possible ally, but that commander—Nikolaus, she recalled the name—he would have to have known that it was a risk engaging a supposedly neutral party in Arendelle's sovereign waters.

And thinking of additional forces and other nations, were they not expecting a clipper from Spain? One that was now a day overdue. Although a day was no big issue, she couldn't fight the nagging feeling that something else was going on here. Something far more dangerous than anything she wanted to be involved in. And just what was that wandering across her field of—oh.

"Elsa," her sister's voice was exasperated, what little of it remained. "So, daydreaming about me?" Anna made a crude gesture, and Elsa blushed so deeply she had to look around to make sure they weren't being watched. Then Anna relented, asking more seriously: "Is it bad?"

"Worse. I played right into it—or they got lucky with their plans," Elsa rested her head in one hand, massaging her temples. She knew exactly who she had to talk to about this, and she hated it. Hated just how _necessary_ he was. "I think I have to talk with Marshal Gerhardt. It's that bad."

"Is it–is it still okay to take the money?" Anna asked with some trepidation. They'd discussed her plans this morning.

"It's fine, Anna, really, it is. I know how much you want to do this, and I appreciate you asking my permission first," then Elsa made a most un-queenly face. "I did not, however, appreciate hearing every detail of what you planned to do with your boyfriend today."

"Prude."

She had no comeback for that. For the most part it was true. Anna's descriptions had not been graphic, but even what she had hinted at was enough to make the Queen's cheeks burn hot enough to brighten the room. It also scared her, more than she cared to admit. If this went wrong, both her sister and Kristoff stood to lose a lot, and wind up very, very hurt. It was by no means simple, nor easy, but it was something Anna said she needed to do. And Elsa knew that once her sister had set her mind on doing something, it would be done. It was that simple. She just hoped no one would get hurt this time.

* * *

Kristoff blinked and rubbed his eyes, making sure he'd read the sign above the door correctly. They were at a sauna—one of the most exclusive in the town—and Anna was placing a not insignificant sum on the counter, asking for complete privacy. Which would mean he would be alone with the young princess, for however long she wanted to stay there. However long she could stand being near him. He still remembered the way she had shied away from him several days ago, not saying a word, running off in a panic. He didn't think it was his fault—and if it was, he questioned exactly why she was willing to be alone with him now. Especially given what she apparently planned to do, which was… something he couldn't actually figure out. All he knew was that she wanted him here, and she wanted privacy. She had also said something about needing to get help from more people than just Elsa.

That was probably the best thing he had heard all week—that Anna wanted _his_ help. After the shock of seeing her run away, it was heartening to see her facing the world once more. In whatever way she chose to face it, and to fight her demons. And given everything he knew of her indomitable spirit, he had no doubt that those demons would not last long. Not long at all. And then she was dragging him behind a changing screen, looking him straight in the eye, almost daring him to do something.

"Help," and here she made a show of trying to unlace her bodice. Kristoff moved closer to help, trying not to notice the way his shadow seemed to loom over the princess. He began carefully unlacing the back of Anna's bodice, and as he did so he felt his fingers brush across the exposed skin on the back of her neck. He stilled as she drew away, a lace in each hand. He heard her quiet cursing, and when she looked over her shoulder to smile reassuringly at him, he couldn't help but smile back. That was the heart of the Anna he knew. The Anna he wanted to bring back from wherever those Weseltonian bastards had forced her to hide.

Kristoff gradually resumed the process of unlacing Anna's bodice. "It's okay. I–I guess you still might be scared after what those men did to you. And knowing you, feistypants, you just don't want to admit that you're still scared. I don't blame you for running away the other day either, even if you can't tell me why. I just don't want you to be afraid—of anything. You fought wolves, climbed mountains, even held off a giant snow monster. If that's not brave, I don't know what is."

He felt Anna wrap her fingers around his right hand as he placed both hands reassuringly on her shoulders. There was a warmth there that simply could not be extinguished, like glowing embers in a dying hearth. He wanted so badly to rekindle that fire, the great warmth of love and passion the young princess in front of him had always been. Even if she did have a tendency to destroy sleds and other belongings with her misadventures. I really shouldn't blame her, Kristoff tempered his thoughts. Not for the second one, at least. I guess I should just be thankful none of us were hurt by that.

Even though her fingers were still wrapped around his, Kristoff managed to extricate his hand from Anna's grip. She turned, dress loose, a hurt look on her face. He reached out for her hand, and she drew back, suddenly terrified. He could see the fear in her darting eyes, in the sudden blankness of her gaze, and in the small, furtive movements she made as she looked around. He was about to step back, to let things play out in her mind the way they had to, until a sudden surge of protectiveness drove him forwards. He would protect her, even from herself—even if the harm was only on the inside. She struggled and whimpered as he embraced her, arms tight, chin resting on her shoulder. He both heard and felt her sucking in a deep breath, looking around frantically after doing so. He couldn't help but worry he'd crossed some invisible line; pushed too hard in trying to save her that he might be driving her further away.

So when she pulled away, only seconds later, he didn't try to stop her, letting his arms fall back to his sides, and doing his very best to keep the hurt and worry from his face. She shivered, and turned, and in her eyes he saw her fear. She was afraid of driving him away, afraid of losing his help when she wanted it—maybe even when she needed it. She tried to talk, but no sound came this time, and he saw the panic spreading across her face as she tried to turn away in shame. He was not going to let her keep feeling that. Not if there was anything he could do. So with his left hand he gently took hold of her shoulder, just enough to halt her turn. With his right he pressed a finger softly to her lips.

"Don't say anything, it's alright, I won't go away."

He could see the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, and as she closed her eyes, she sniffled a little, tears slowly coursing down her cheeks. He made to wipe them away, but Anna took firm hold of his arm when he moved. He understood then, these were not tears of sadness, or weakness, or anger. They were cleansing tears, washing away the fear, the pain, the uncertainty. Tears that had to be shed so she could heal. No matter how much it might hurt others to witness her letting go of that pain by reliving it. Reliving it and casting it out.

Opening her eyes again, Anna continued to undress herself, not even blushing despite still being so close to Kristoff. There must not have been a single self-conscious thought in her head—but he was sure he was starting blush hotly enough for both of them. It was about that time he realized he was still wearing his clothes while the young woman in front of him was down to just her undergarments. And if they were going to share a sauna, he would need to be similarly attired. Well, with a towel for modesty, at least. He made to move away, but a soft tug against his sleeve stopped him in his tracks.

He turned back, and there she was, smiling softly at him. He grinned back, and made a subtle gesture towards another of the privacy screens. Anna shook her head, then pressed against his chest, her hand undoing the first button of his shirt. He blinked, looking down at her, seeing deep within her eyes. He saw the tempered desire there—but this was not for that. This was about something else, something she wanted or needed to do. Something involving clothing. His clothing. She struggled with the last button, but before he could offer any help she had it undone, removing the shirt one arm at a time, as best she could.

Then she pulled that shirt over the stump of her right arm, struggling to slip her left arm into its respective sleeve. If they were going to use the sauna, he honestly had no idea why she wanted to wear his clothes. Underwear, sure, if a bathing suit was not so readily accessible—even though most wore nothing but a towel in the sauna room. But a shirt? Even if she wasn't bothering to close it up, it didn't make a whole lot of sense. Until seeing the bruising on her ribs and the scar above her left breast reminded him of the last time he'd seen her wearing so little. Bandages that just managed to preserve her modesty, and—pants; which would be why she was tugging at them now.

"They made you wear these, didn't they?" Kristoff's voice was low, pitched just enough to cross the distance between them. She merely nodded in reply, smiling thankfully as he handed his pants over, still wearing his undershorts and a light undershirt. Arendelle could get remarkably warm in the summer months, and this day was no exception. Seeing Anna dressed in his own clothes had quite an effect, and Kristoff tried his very best to suppress any of those urges. Maybe in the future, but not now. Not when she seemed so fragile and delicate. The way she walked into the sauna room caught at his breath, but he knew it was far from deliberate. It was just the way she was.

After carefully folding his remaining clothes into neat piles—and doing the same for the garments Anna had discarded—Kristoff wrapped a towel about his waist and quietly opened the door to the sauna itself, before reconsidering. If they were going to be alone, then no one would pass comment about his lute. Retrieving said instrument, he entered the sauna, making barely a sound as he opened the door, and turning slightly to make sure it closed properly behind him.

The first thing he noticed was Anna's brassiere. He noticed it because it was next to the door and he'd nearly tripped over it. He also noticed that it was lace—emerald lace, and the design was more complex than he'd first given it credit for, something meant to be seen, not merely worn. And he'd paid it no mind while she was wearing it; because she was far more than what she wore. She could have worn only the plainest of clothes, and he would still think she was the most interesting person he had ever met. It was a strange thought, the first time he had acknowledged that truth, but he couldn't in any way deny it. Anna made his life more interesting whenever she was in it. He wanted to share more of it with her—not just to help her heal, but to show her things he found interesting too. Like the springs nestled behind the Valley of the Living Rock. Springs that his family, for the most part, ignored.

His mind was wandering, so he turned to face the young woman, princess, and friend he meant to help. As he turned his fingers idly strummed the lute he carried, a soft melody rippling through the barely visible steam. In the middle of the room she stood there, frozen, transfixed, her face devoid of expression and her eyes blank. She blinked, confused tears starting to roll down her cheeks. He could see then everything that she was. Her hair, copper and fire, braids falling past her shoulders and over the shirt she wore. Her eyes of noble turquoise, hiding so much fear and passion and strength. Soft lips, parted gently, a tiny scar on her lower lip—a scar he wanted to reach out and caress, to make it better with a single touch, a gentle kiss. Anything to lessen her hurt.

Through the open front of the shirt she wore he could see the small, circular scar above her left breast, a wound he knew nothing about—just like the rest. He could see her breasts, and while she was not as endowed as some women were, she was shaped to perfection, such that size would never matter. In fact, he considered, her petite frame probably played well to her advantage there. And below her breasts, masked in no small part by the open front of the shirt, he could just see the purpling edge of a bruise, and a sickly yellow that spread further across her skin. He knew those marks well—broken ribs. Just one of many injuries ice harvesters could suffer if they weren't quick or careful enough.

He moved closer, wanting just to touch her, hoping in some way that would make things better, but as he drew close the blankness in her eyes turned to abject terror. She shied away, stepping backwards until she was dangerously close to the heating stones. Another step and she would—Kristoff sprang into action, circling her swiftly, interposing himself between Anna and the hot stones with a gentle shove. She was not going to be injured again because of another failing. It happened anyway.

It was only a gentle push, just enough to keep her from touching the stones, but mid-stride it was also enough to throw her off balance and she landed hard on her backside, slipping sideways as her non-existent right arm failed to arrest the rest of her fall. She almost screamed as her back hit the wooden floor—he could see the pain shooting across her face, how hard she tried to fight it. She wasn't about to show any weakness in front of him—which meant she might not be seeing him, Kristoff realized. She might be reliving another memory, a more painful and terrifying memory.

So he circled her slowly once again, keeping his distance, sitting on the furthest bench from her, strumming a gentle tune on his lute. The music seemed to calm her, and she looked up at him, eyes wide with fear and confusion. He said nothing, just gave her an understanding smile. She could heal in her own way, in her own time. It couldn't be rushed. Just like love. And no matter how long it took her to heal, he would be there, picking up the pieces, ready to put her back together. So as she found the strength to stand once more, he began to sing.

Look what they've done to you  
It isn't fair  
Your light was bright and new  
But they didn't care  
They took the heart of a little girl  
And made it grow up too fast

Anna looked up, smiling sadly, and Kristoff continued his song.

Now words like innocence  
Don't mean a thing  
You hear the music play  
But you can't sing  
Those pictures in your mind  
Keep you locked up inside your past

A dark cloud crossed her face, and he could tell she felt betrayed—by what, he couldn't say, but he could read it in her eyes. A secret truth she thought could not be known to any other. Perhaps a truth she feared, about what she really was now; a truth she couldn't accept. She stood there, and the music seemed to flow around her, the words falling against her skin.

This is a song for the broken girl  
The one pushed aside by the cold, cruel world  
You are  
Hear me when I say  
You're not the worthless they made you feel  
There is a love they can never steal away  
And you don't have to stay the broken girl

An understanding smile quirked her lips, and darkness seemed to lift behind her eyes with the final line. Kristoff couldn't help but smile at that little victory. He knew from such victories the battle against the darkness inside was won. Not great acts or epic deeds, but by the little things. Things like being loved, appreciated, valued, known. As he sang the next verse, he changed the melody slightly, something brighter, exultant, powerful.

Those damaged goods you see  
In your reflection  
I see them differently  
I see perfection  
A beautiful display  
Of healing your own way

Anna shivered as the words sunk in, and she made to move—but he noticed that she was no longer backing away. This time she chose to approach him. To conquer her fears through sheer determination. He loved her all the more for it, wondering how it was he had found someone so amazing—remembering in the end that she had found him.

This is a song for the broken girl  
The one pushed aside by the cold, cruel world  
You are  
Hear me when I say  
You're not the worthless they made you feel  
There is a love they can never steal away  
And you won't always stay the broken girl  
You won't always be the broken girl

After the chorus he changed the melody a little more, culminating in a rich, powerful crescendo that tapered off into a quiet, contemplative tune. Anna was closer still, leaning forwards, stray hairs framing her face and something new burning behind her eyes. A fiery determination, mixed with no small hint of mischief. Her smile was weak, but it was happy, and Kristoff sang the final verse much more softly than he had first intended. It worked better that way.

Let your tears touch the ground  
Lay all your shattered pieces down  
And be amazed by how we can take a broken girl  
And put her back together again

A warm shadow blocked the light falling on his face, and Kristoff felt soft lips tenderly planting the ghost of a kiss against his own. Then Anna drew back—but just enough to look at him fully as he gently set his lute aside. She tried to talk, but all that came out was a slight cough. She looked so sad and angry at herself—Kristoff stood to embrace her, extending his arms, and Anna stopped him by taking his hand gingerly in her own, finding just enough of her voice to whisper the words at him, a questioning look in her eyes. And his reply was as simple and honest and loving as anything he'd ever said before. 'You won't stay the broken girl'.

"Because you never were."


	55. The Forge of Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my very first attempt at writing something sexual in nature, while also trying to maintain an atmosphere of intimacy rather than overt lust. According to the reveiws I got over on FF.net, it seemed to come off alright.

**Warning: (Awkward) Intimacy**

* * *

The sauna was warm and dry, she had poured only the smallest amount of water onto the stones. Doctor Arnesen had warned her about the effects of high heat and moisture on her savaged back, and she had no particular desire to hear that lecture again. Not with all the disturbing detail he'd put into it. She got the message though—and about the cut around her wrist. Her wrist—her hand, still gently clasping Kristoff's. His skin was rough, calloused from years of work as an ice harvester. It had texture, and strength, but beneath that strength was a tenderness she couldn't put into words. She let her hand fall, staring at the floor.

She wanted to thank him, for the song, but no words had come—he had moved to hug her, and still scared of her own reactions around the ice harvester, she had held him back and only taken his hand. A gesture of warmth, but nothing like what she wanted to share. It was so hard, not being able to talk, not being able to reach out—being unable to express herself physically when she wanted to. So very hard. But she was trying, and she would keep trying until she succeeded. It doesn't have to be today, she told herself, but I will get better. I'm better around Elsa, right?

And at that she nodded, more self-assured that she was, in fact, healing. She also remembered sparring with Hank, and even though it had stung at times—and really hurt when he accidentally hit her—she hadn't been afraid of that touch. Nor was she afraid of her sister's touch. Not anymore. She'd never been afraid of the castle physician's touch either—but that was likely because it was strictly professional. She found it odd that she would trust someone she knew so little so well. Perhaps it had something to do with his role as a healer; something people were inclined to trust. So why was she still afraid of Kristoff's touch? Especially when she had encouraged him to touch her. What was it about him that made his touch so different that she would still be afraid of it? Or was it something in her?

"Kr–Kris-to-ff?" it was all she could say, haltingly speaking his name in a quiet whisper, suddenly realizing how unfair she had been to him. Because he'd been there, from the very start, when she first wanted to track down Elsa during the Great Freeze. He had helped her, with a push in the right direction, of course. He hadn't trusted her judgement—but she knew now that perhaps he had been right to question it. Or at least on the topic of Hans. Then he had come back, across the fjord, to save her in the blizzard as she froze to death. He had taken her around Arendelle's countryside after she had first been injured, and she hadn't seen then the importance of what he was doing. Or why.

It was more than courtship, that much was for certain. Kristoff had followed her attempts to rescue Olaf from the top of the castle. He hadn't discouraged her either, just warned her that it was dangerous. Then he helped her up, and after grabbing Olaf's head she'd come unstuck, not having a free hand to grab onto anything with. Then they'd gone to the heartwood, and she'd seen the ruins of his lute—the one she had smashed a wolf with. He'd commended her strength. There was the picnic, a day or so later—time that seemed so long ago now. They'd just talked. She smiled softly, remembering just how _normal_ that had felt. Then there was the time she had gifted him his new sled, now sadly tinder and matchsticks. The sauna, at Oaken's—that had been nice too. He wanted her, and she knew it—she also knew he didn't think he'd earned it, not then at any rate.

But the biggest thing, something she'd not noticed at all until she looked back on it, was the range of activities they'd gotten up to together. Things normal people did. Things people with _two_ arms did. A lot. Things that would never change even though she only had one arm. And she had taken all that for granted. All of it. She didn't feel worthy of that kind of attention—she was the one that made people feel better by doing stuff like that, doing things for Elsa, forcing her into taking little adventures. But she didn't think she'd needed that kind of reassurance herself. Maybe she hadn't, but her escape attempts at the fort, at the hands of the Weseltonian soldiers, those had shown her the limitations of only having one arm—both physical and psychological.

She blinked back tears, looking at the scar around her wrist. She was there, cold stone pressing against the savage welts on her back, a boot hard against her chest, enough weight behind it to make breathing difficult. The cold, piercing pain of that dagger plunging deeply into her flesh. The line of cold fire it left behind, blood trailing down her wrist. Warm, wet, sticky blood. Her blood. She had been terrified. She shivered even in the heat of the sauna, shaken by that memory. The terror had taken over that day, her mind refusing to accept what it was being plainly told. The implications were just… she shivered again, tears falling slowly from her cheeks. Helpless. Completely helpless, unable to fend for herself in any way. Two useless arms.

Tears blurred her vision, and she thought of what something like that would have done to Elsa. Her sister might have collapsed, given up there—but she'd started a fire within her. This new Elsa would not have broken so easily. No, what scared Anna more was the idea of Elsa angry—angry at the harm that had been done to her. Because if Elsa's depression cut loose could cause an eternal winter, what could her _anger_ have done?

She stood there, swaying gently, unsteady on her feet. Elsa's love for her might be a dangerous thing—a very dangerous thing indeed. She'd admitted jealousy about her being able to hug Hank first, but Anna didn't think that malicious. If, however, that had been anger, if there had been due cause for it, what then—what of anyone that came between them? And Kristoff… Kristoff stood there in front of her now, the one person she would let come between them. All because she couldn't love Elsa the way Elsa loved her. She still entertained the thought that one day, just… one day… she might let Elsa do those things to her, to resolve those desires—unless, of course, Elsa used Hank to resolve them first. In the same way Anna wanted to use Kristoff to resolve her own desires—and to fight past her fears.

The fabric of Kristoff's shirt was strangely itchy against her scars, and she took the garment off slowly, turning it around so she could see the inside. There was no blood, but the fabric was rougher than she was used to. Maybe the steam, what little of it there was, was making her more sensitive. She would have simply thrown the shirt aside had she not remembered it didn't belong to her. Instead, she placed it on the lowest bench, and folded it—tried to fold it—the way she saw Gerda working the laundry. One cuff stuck out from a gap in the middle, and the collar was all sorts of wrong. Anna cocked her head, frowning at the garment, but she figured a second attempt at folding it would probably make things worse.

Once more she simply stood there, in front of Kristoff, now wearing only his pants. He stood there as well, and she could see he was fighting the urge to move away. Away from her. He didn't avert his eyes, but he did shuffle back slightly, and not just to get a better view. He was at arms' length now and she knew, somehow, if she advanced he would retreat. What she couldn't figure out was why. She was desirable. She knew that because Elsa desired her—and before his treachery, she had thought Hans did as well. She still wanted all of them to want her for more than just her body—and they did, Elsa wanted to share her heart, Kristoff her soul, and Hans… Hans had only ever wanted her title. But the one _she_ wanted was Kristoff, and she wanted him _now_. She wanted him to understand, so she could heal properly.

To that end she took his right hand by the wrist, and pulled him closer, preparing to lay that hand against her breasts. Because she had to be able to experience a touch like that, to want that, and not have it turn against her. Not be afraid of being touched there. Not while she was so vulnerable—not defenseless, just vulnerable. Kristoff still held back, his strength enough to keep hers in check, and to keep him from touching her there. Could he not see that this was what she wanted? What she needed?

His strength ebbed, or he let her take control, slower than before. But just before his skin brushed against hers, fingertips hovering over her breast, he held himself back again, asking a single question, voice barely above a respectful whisper. "You're sure?"

She still couldn't trust herself to speak, but she could nod, firmly and decisively, just before letting go of his hand. And instead of touching her breasts as she'd expected, she felt a calloused fingertip tenderly tracing around the scar above her left breast. The same kind of scar she could see on his right arm now that she was looking closer. Now that he _was_ closer. She took half a step back before she regained control of herself. Kristoff's hand fell along with Anna's heart. She had been so close to getting somewhere, to overcoming her fear of being touched.

"You don't owe me anything, feistypants," he spoke softly. "It's your body, and you have a right to use it how you wish. If you want to share your body with me thats perfectly fine. If you want to say 'no', you can. At any time. I'll listen. I don't know what those men at the fort did to you, but I can guess—and that's why we're here alone. It's all up to you. I just wish I'd _earned_ the privilege of seeing you this way."

It was almost as bad as Hank, she considered quietly, but where Hank was quiet and reserved, Kristoff was simply sure of his actions; sure he was doing the right thing. It was all about her, she would have to take the initiative, because he was afraid of hurting her. It was a comforting realization. He was letting her take the lead not because he didn't want to, but because he wanted her to feel safe, in control of the situation. But he still hadn't touched her breasts—so she took his hand once more, and placed it against her left breast, expecting him to do something to her.

He did, tracing the scar above that breast again—but this time his fingers moved down the centre of her chest, gently tapping at the tiny puncture that annoying splinter had left there. His hand continued tracing a flickering path down her ribs, ghosting over the giant bruise on her right side. Everywhere he touched it seemed to light a fire within her. She knew what it was she wanted, she just didn't know how to get it. At least, not yet. Not while those fingers were tickling her exposed belly. She loosed an explosive laugh, so bright and loud it seemed to echo around the sauna for some time. It also sent fire shooting down her side, and her hand wrapped protectively around her stomach as she give him an apologetic look. She liked to laugh—it just hurt, and she didn't like being hurt. He mumbled an apology as his hands fell to his side, not entirely sure what to be doing with them.

He reached out first this time, slowly, making sure she could see every movement. She shivered as his hand drew close, but managed to suppress the urge to step back. The hand was only going for her stomach, not her breasts. Her skin tingled at his touch, rising like gooseflesh. It was a very peculiar sensation—but not unwelcome, she found herself thinking, just strange and new. His fingers traced toward her waist, a subtle warmth spreading in their wake. She sucked in a breath as his nails just caught around her waist, and she shivered in delight. He was closer now, beside her, turning slowly so that he would soon be behind her. She closed her eyes, still a little afraid of stepping away if she saw a shadow that large looming over her. She calmed herself, a tiny shiver running through her body, and she could feel his fingers against the little hollow in the small of her back. She also heard his short, sharp gasp. Unlike Elsa, he hadn't seen how hurt she really was. Until now.

Those treacherously tantalizing fingers continued to move; she could feel them gliding over the skin of her back. She risked opening her eyes. His shadow was close, but she didn't feel the urge to step away. Not anymore. She didn't want to move at all, those fingers carefully tracing between all of her scars, tenderly caressing her spine. Soon they had risen to her shoulder blade, then they rested against her right shoulder, gently massaging the muscle there. Kristoff's other hand pressed against her left shoulder and she started, ducking slightly before she managed to straighten herself out. The massage felt nice, an act of someone more than a friend. She felt a kiss against her crown, through her fuzzy hair—because any amount of steam tended to do that—another kiss, and a firmer grip against her shoulders, not rough, even though his skin was a little, but strong. The kind of strength she could almost feel flowing from him to her. A tiny part of her asked if Elsa could ever have made her feel like this, but she put it aside as best she could.

Her shoulders began to sag, and her eyes were half lidded. She knew she probably had a stupid grin on her face, but she just didn't care—it felt too good. She let out a sigh of contentment. She knew then just how right Kristoff had been in refusing to touch her at first, refusing to touch her breasts—because she hadn't needed something like that, an act of lust and desire. What she'd needed was this—like what she'd done in the cave for Elsa, she realized. Not lust, or sexuality, or desire, but intimacy. Tender, loving, physical contact, and the kind of contact that made her forget worries and fears for even a moment. It just felt so nice, she didn't really have words for it. It was relaxing and freeing and healing all at once and a lot of other things besides. She just wanted it to continue so she could melt into a puddle on the floor, free of all her tension and worry—a puddle that would closely resemble a very, very happy red haired young woman. Princess. Even if she had been the spare—not that she felt like a spare anything right now.

Another realization came to her slowly, as Kristoff's hands moved closer to her neck, gently easing the tension there. He hadn't touched her beasts—aside from the moment she'd placed his hand there. Not because he didn't want to, because she'd seen the desire in his eyes, but because he didn't want to touch just a part of her. Like she was a collection of objects, of things to be touched. And the way he was massaging her neck and shoulders… he was touching her _body_. As a whole, not as pieces. That was why his fingers had traced and tickled their way from that scar above her breast, down her stomach and around her waist, and finally up to her shoulders. Without saying a word he told her that everything was hers, and whole, and could not be separated from the other. Because if he were to touch her breasts—she could suddenly see the way he was thinking here—if he were to touch her breasts, he wouldn't just be touching her breasts, but her whole body, everything she associated with it, with the parts of herself she liked to touch, to bring herself pleasure. That kind of pleasure.

Which meant maybe he thought she had been… and she still hated to say the word, so ugly did it sound. He thought she had been raped, and he was afraid of triggering those memories with his touch. She had to tell him it was okay, he was allowed to touch her, and nothing bad would happen. She hoped. Because she hadn't been raped, but those men… they had used her body, like an object, something just there for them to take as they pleased. And Sten—she froze, suddenly remembering what Sten had nearly done, his hand against her flesh; and what he'd nearly done before Elsa froze his heart. She could still remember those rough hands pressing against her, fingers sliding against her core—and the way her body had responded with pleasure as her mind recoiled at the thought of what was happening.

She staggered sideways, knees weak. She might have fallen had not strong hands caught her around her upper arms, gently guiding her towards the low benches, forcing her to sit. She took a deep breath, and another, fighting to bring her racing heart back under her control. She wasn't there. This wasn't the fort. Kristoff wasn't them. But he was here, and he was kind, and loving, and warm, and she found herself leaning against him, almost falling into his lap. Strong arms wrapped around her, trying to avoid the scars on her back, and she didn't feel caged by them. They were still a barrier—but to keep the world out, not to keep her in. She looked up at her boyfriend, blinking back tears as she gazed into those soulful brown eyes. It wasn't fair, what she was forcing him to do.

Calming her mind, Anna let out a little sigh, trying to smile for the man whose arms she was now in. He might not have been everything she wanted, but then again, she wasn't sure what she'd wanted. Not anymore. But she did know the two things she valued most about him. Honesty, and loyalty. Sure, he could be blunt sometimes, but he'd never lied to her. And even after everything, he still stood by her side. He'd even come to rescue her, although Elsa had gotten there first. Kristoff was not someone that belonged at the back of her mind, someone on the outside of her life. He deserved better, even if he didn't think he'd earned it. Or maybe he just wanted to be sure he'd earned it, and it wouldn't be taken away from him again. She really wasn't sure about that. But she was sure about something else.

She wanted him in her life. Forever.

And he deserved the same honesty she had with Elsa, he deserved to know some of what had happened. All of it. And damn it, she would _tell_ him. She was going to _talk_. She was going to try _harder_. Because he deserved her strength just as much as Elsa did. So she lay there, in his arms, gathering her courage. She closed her eyes, because somehow it was easier to talk right now if she didn't have to see his face. To see the horror he would feel upon learning the truth about those three terrifying days. So she said the first thing she felt, her voice small and quiet even in the serenity of the sauna.

"I'm scared."

She hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was true. The only problem was that she didn't know what she was actually afraid of. All she knew was that she was afraid of something, something that still held her voice, something that took hold of her body, something that threw her mind backwards, back to those three days. She knew she was healing, but she was still scared—scared she might be _different_ , after. Even if her friends were trying to treat her as if nothing had changed. She was also scared of something else, something worse. She was afraid that after she told Kristoff all this, she might not be able to tell Elsa. She was afraid to ask why she couldn't have told her in the first place.

Then she felt Kristoff shift slightly, and felt him gently kiss her forehead, as a parent comforting a child. She tried to curl up, pulling an imaginary blanket towards her shoulders. Anna blinked, opening her eyes. Kristoff was looking down on her, smiling softly.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore." And she wasn't, because she felt safe here, in his arms. She knew he would protect her, but he wouldn't hold her back. She lay on her side, Kristoff's arms around her, using his legs as pillow. She curled up a little because really, it was quite comfortable, and more than warm enough despite neither of them wearing a shirt. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of gentle breathing. Anna frowned softly, unsure of where to begin. She said as much.

Kristoff's reply didn't come as words, not at first. His right arm disentangled itself from her, and his hand hovered above her breasts. She froze, going stock still. She was scared now, because if he touched her there, she might not be ready for it. Her worry dissolved a moment later when his fingers traced that same scar, the one the crossbow bolt had left above her left breast. Only then did he speak, only then did he ask about the scar.

"Crossbow," she replied breathlessly, miming firing one one-handed, then placing a finger against the scar. Perhaps a little too swiftly, because that stung. "I—I shot someone. He shot back." Kristoff's fingers—her boyfriends fingers—traced the tiny puncture between her breasts. "Splinter," she almost laughed at that, remembering. "I was tied… tied to a—flagpole? I think. Uncomfortable. Got splinter." His fingers pressed tenderly against her bruised side and broken ribs. She sucked in a quiet gasp, because any kind of pressure was still painful. He stopped after a moment, just resting his entire hand against her stomach. It felt wonderfully warm. But he still deserved an answer to his wordless question. "Mikkel—kicked. Hard. So hard. Crack. Br-broken rib. I tried escaping. Tried so hard—like Flynn Rider. Fought the guards."

"Of course you did, feistypants. No one gets to keep you prisoner." All she could do was smile up at him, a stupid grin on her face. He knew her.

His hand trailed back up her chest, and she fought her body to remain still when she realized where that path would take it. It was what she thought she had wanted, a touch she thought she needed to feel, to overcome the fear of it. But it wasn't, and she was suddenly terrified, breath coming in short gasps, heart hammering in her chest. She could just say 'no', and she knew he would stop. But she had to let this happen—had to prove that even the lightest of touches was not something to be feared. Before she could calm her fevered mind, his fingertips brushed like feathers across her breast and she shivered violently, a single traitorous tear rolling down the side of her face. It was all over before she knew it, and she was suddenly being cradled in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he spoke softly, voice tinged with regret. "You weren't ready. I'm sorry."

She reached up to run a finger along his jaw, sighing as she did so. "I'm scared, Kristoff. Of everybody. When I came back… Elsa… she… I… in the bath… she–she gave me the soap. I thought she was going to… but it's crazy. She would never… never hurt me. Never. But I was so scared. I'm still scared, and I don't know why. I wanted to tell–to tell her. But I couldn't. Why couldn't I tell her? Why did my voice go away? What did I do wrong? What did I… did I…did…" her voice was still there, she just couldn't make it work. Couldn't say the rest of the words. It was only when Kristoff's face became a blurry outline that she realized it was because she was sobbing in—anger? fear? pain? She didn't even know why she was crying now. She just was—and she hated it. Because her tears should have had a purpose, right? But she knew this time they didn't. A quiet, firm voice interrupted her sobbing.

"Anna. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You–you're sure?" she dried her eyes with the back of her hand, taming her suddenly ragged breath.

"I'm sure. You did nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve this. Well, you have cost me two sleds—how's a man supposed to—ow!"

And she smiled, thumping him squarely in the chest. He had a point about the sleds. She knew he couldn't actually work to make money without one. She'd never really had to work—except at her studies to be the royal princess, at which she had been less than stellar. She sometimes wondered, even now, if she'd been born to a different family, if things had been different, would she have had a happier childhood? Maybe. She would have had freedom, but would she have been happy, with a different sister? Would Elsa have been better if she'd never been there to get hurt? She blinked as a hand waved in front of her.

"Are you okay—you looked so worried."

"I—" Anna started, but cut herself off. She was okay for now, but it might not last, and she had to be honest, with herself as well as with him. "No. I'm not okay, Kristoff. Not right now."

"Do you want to stop—stop talking? Go home?"

She considered those options. Both of them actually seemed like smart ideas, except for the fact that she liked talking, and she was actually pretty comfortable just lying here, with her boyfriend. Yes, she decided, he was definitely her boyfriend—especially if she eventually wanted to do those things with him. Things that made her sister flush a magnificent shade of scarlet from the mere thought of them. Kristoff has asked her a question before she got distracted, and she gave him an answer, and a question of her own.

"No—no. But, Kristoff, why can't I tell Elsa? What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing, feistypants. Nothing at all. Trust me, I'm the one who knows the love experts"—and at this she stuck out her tongue at him—"anyway, they told me this, when I had to talk to Pabbie about my problems instead of Bulda—she was my troll-mother. Pabbie said this to me: 'Sometimes our burdens are too great to share with the ones we love most; so we share them instead with those we trust.'. It means sometimes things are so bad, or scary, that we're afraid of breaking the people we love by sharing them."

"Really?" she asked quietly. "I can't tell Elsa because I'm afraid of breaking her? But I trust her with everything. We're sisters. How can I _not_ tell her?"

"Maybe you're afraid how she'll react when you tell her the truth?"

"I did tell her the truth, you stinker. When I could talk—and you don't know what she's going through!" Anna was surprised at her reaction, surprised she could go from sad and scared to angry so very quickly. So quickly she wanted to thump Kristoff again, because this was his fault.

"I don't know what either of you are going through because no one would talk to me!" Kristoff's shout echoed through the sauna, and the horror on his face told Anna that he knew he'd crossed a line—too far. Way too far. But he tried to soften the blow, explain himself. "I'm sorry. I should know better—but no one told me anything. Anything. Until you came to see me that morning I didn't even know you were still alive. Well, you had to be, the castle was still standing and we weren't buried under a thousand feet of snow. But I didn't know anything.

"You were safe. That's about it, Anna. That's all I knew, damn it. The only thing. But you come out with Que–with Elsa, and you kick Olaf's head at me. Nice kick, by the way; please don't use it on me. You came out, you couldn't speak, and you all but ran away screaming. I know it wasn't like that, but seeing you afraid—it's not like you to be afraid, feistypants. So I was scared something bad happened. The next time I saw you you were walking with lieutenant Erikson, and then, today. I was scared for you, after everything they probably did to you."

"You were… scared… for me?" but even as she spoke she could see why. He loved her. He didn't want anything bad to happen to her, didn't want to think about it—just like she didn't want to think about bad things happening to Elsa. He loved her, and he was angry with her—not really. She knew that anger, because she felt it for Elsa all too much. She was afraid of losing her. So that fear became anger that provoked an awful kind of honesty.

"I still am. I don't know what happened there. I don't know what you're going through. I want to help, but you have to let me in first." Anna could have laughed at that. It was a like a mirror for her and Elsa's relationship, at least at first. There she was the strong one, asking to be let in. Here she was the one who needed strength. Maybe she needed it, but she also felt she was strong enough to do this on her own if she had to. Having people who loved her helping her would just make it easier.

"I can't talk about all of it."

"That's okay. You don't have to tell me all of it. Just… when you're ready, I'll be here. Unless I'm on a harvesting trip, of course. Then you'll have to tell someone else. Olaf, maybe."

"You wouldn't dare." She looked him straight in the eye, challenging him to make good on his words.

"No, you're right," he admitted at last. "He'd tell too many people. Maybe you should try Marshmallow?"

That earned him a good thump, and a laugh. But it also got her wondering, up there, all alone on the North Mountain, just what was the snow monster doing? Doing in Elsa's ice palace? And what if an unlucky explorer made his—or her—way up there? This wasn't a Flynn Rider story. But while Marshmallow was dangerous, she didn't think he was malicious. He just wanted to keep Elsa safe. And alone. She spared a thought for herself—here, lying back in Kristoff's arms, she was safe. But she didn't want to be alone. She'd been alone for thirteen years, lonely, even with the guards and servants and staff to talk to and occasionally play with. She'd accepted Hans's offer because she didn't want to be alone anymore—and because she didn't think she'd get another chance after the gates closed and the coronation was over.

But now? Now she had all the chances in the world—unless she managed to hurt him so badly he left. She doubted that, she would never mean to hurt anyone. Except maybe Hans, if he showed his stupid sideburned stupid face anywhere near her. It had felt undeniably good to punch him. Even better when she realized she'd managed to pitch him over the side of the ship. Of course they'd had to fish him out, and then they'd sent him home. And they had heard nothing at all from the Southern Isles until that very morning, Elsa granting an audience to their Crown Prince.

That wasn't her problem, however. Hers was a fear of being touched, especially by men, and especially if there was any lust behind that touch. But she knew one way to deal with her fears. Make things happen, and prove that they weren't bad. Prove that nothing bad would happen. So, lying there in her boyfriend's arms, she whispered seductively—well, she hoped that kind of husky voice was seductive, because it was something Elsa liked too…

"You can touch me, if you want. When you're ready," and she smiled at him, knowing it would take him some time to reach out.

They just lay there, in the warmth of the sauna, not caring to talk. It was a calming silence, one that didn't need to be filled with words. The kind of silence she would happily share with other friends—only with more clothes on, of course. It was the kind of silence in which nothing had to happen, because nothing was happening. The world outside fell away, and Anna found herself drifting on the edge of sleep, so completely relaxed she was. She didn't even start when gentle fingers and rough skin brushed against her hip. She could feel her skin rising like gooseflesh, but it hardly registered in her sleepy mind. It did feel nice though, she was still awake enough to remember that.

The fingers walked up her waist, warmth spreading somewhere deep within her. They tickled her ribs like ghostly feathers, just enough that she let loose a pleasant little shiver. Still they continued on, the hand that owned them gently pressing against her belly, seeming to caress her entire body. She almost melted with that touch, feeling the warmth of that hand lifting slowly, fingertips brushing and tickling around her navel. The roughness of his skin made it quite the most exquisite thing she had felt in a long, long time. She shivered again, head to toe, feeling her entire body shake just a tiny bit.

Kristoff's fingers continued to wander, gently climbing her chest, tapping softly against her skin with every step they took. Her heart beat faster, and this time it wasn't only fear driving its increased rhythm. The side of his thumb swept against her collarbone and she tried not to tense at what had to come next. What she had to let happen. What she had given him permission to do. It happened slowly, because he was being slow and deliberate—and teasing her, she understood. Trying to make it seem normal, like something they would get to do together many, many times. But it still scared her, more than she wanted to admit.

Calloused fingertips brushed against her like feathers, gently tracing the outside of her breast. Her hand balled into a fist beneath her as she fought to remain still. Her breathing slowed, becoming shallower. It wasn't meant to be like this. Those fingers continued moving, exploring the slight curve beneath that breast, thumb resting next to her nipple. It felt wrong. It felt like those bastard soldiers at the fort. It didn't feel any different—because some of them had taken their time to explore instead of abuse as well. They just hadn't stopped touching her. And now, now their actions made her so damned afraid. She bit back tears, and felt her nails digging into her palm. She could do this. Kristoff wasn't them—he was her _boyfriend_. But it was all too much, and she whimpered quietly, her mouth barely moving to make the words.

The hand was gone, fingers no longer exploring her intimate flesh, no longer gently pressing against her. Instead it wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest, so she wouldn't have to see his face—or he wouldn't have to see hers. It was too much, and she hiccoughed slightly, trying to talk. She breathed deeply, breath returning to her lungs, unaware she'd been holding it so long. She didn't sob, or fight, or rage. Because she knew now that Kristoff's touch _was_ different from theirs. Not because he touched her skin differently, or pressed against her in other ways, but because, when she asked, he stopped. Just like that.

And that was it. That was all it was. The only difference. He stopped when she asked—he didn't ask why, he didn't linger, he just stopped touching her. Not like the soldiers—they had touched her more when she protested, beaten her when she struggled. But Kristoff did none of those. He said nothing, made no lewd gestures. Instead of striking out at her or questioning her, he comforted her, without being told she needed it. He had just known. Maybe he was a love expert too.

"Thank you," she whispered into his chest, gently pushing his arm away so she could rest her head on his lap again. It really was quite comfortable, and if she was going to push herself, let him touch her again, she wanted to be comfortable. She knew she might get scared again. She probably would. But it would be her choice to let him touch her again, and her choice to stop him—if she had to. "You can keep touching me, if you want."

"You're sure?" he whispered.

She shook her head softly. "No. I'm scared. They touched me like that too… but they didn't stop. They never stopped. It was like… like I was a _thing_ , just there to please them. They didn't care about me, just touching my body. I _hate_ them! But I don't _want_ to hate them. I want to forget them, because hating them means I care about them. But… but they're all dead now. All dead. I can't hate them anymore."

"I'll tell you a secret, the same one the trolls told me: 'Love is the most powerful force in the world'. Between family, friends, lovers, tribes, even entire nations. Love conquers all—and the trolls know why. Because if you love someone enough, you can do the impossible to save them."

"Then touch me. It'll be okay, I promise," at that she took his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around his. She placed both their hands against her breast, taking a deep breath as she moved her own hand away. Kristoff didn't move his hand, not for some time. Not until her breathing had evened out, and the fear had faded from her eyes. She knew what he was doing; what her body was doing. He was making sure she was able to accept that touch, properly, and without reservation. He was making sure she could appreciate such contact for what it really was, and not what she was afraid it would be.

He was right to do so, because this decision wasn't just hers, and only just now was she seeing that. She had been forcing him to touch her, and she hadn't even considered that he might not be ready for this, even if she supposedly was. She'd given him permission to touch her, but she hadn't asked his to act on it. Selfish. In the worst possible way. And was this the way Elsa felt too… the reason she had refused her advances?

Those worries faded as Kristoff's hand began to move. Her mind couldn't be there, worrying about what she might have been doing to the people closest to her; and also here, taking in everything currently happening to her body. Especially the way she was being touched. A fingertip explored the curve of her breast where it met her chest, while his thumb traced down the inside of the same breast, eventually meeting the fingertip and giving her a gentle pinch. A pinch that ignited a fire she hadn't known was burning deep within her. Her body was beginning to respond to the touch against her breast, just like it had when the soldiers touched her. When Sten touched her.

But this was different, and damn it if Kristoff wasn't trying to tease her again. She couldn't think straight when he did that, but she could still feel the fear. She fought it, fought it with all her considerable willpower. She would not let it take ahold of her. Not this time. Because as Kristoff's fingertips traced a spiralling pattern across her breast, carefully avoiding her nipples—damn him—she found she was actually enjoying his touch. Almost enjoying her body's frustration. The fear was lessened because what came next was taking so damnably long. Her breathing was shallow, fear and excitement in equal measure. He ran a finger around her nipple, not quite touching it—just suggesting he might. Nails dug into her palm, but it felt amazing.

It felt amazing. She'd crossed the tipping point between fear and desire without even realizing it, so frustrated was her body. There was a warmth at her core, and a fire in her belly. She wanted this—more of this. All of this. And she wanted it with him. Only him. And suddenly those fingers where ghosting across her breast, a delicate flick running over her nipple. Gods damn it, he knew what he was doing to her—he had to. He had to be enjoying it too, judging from the happy smile he wore. The tiniest bit of fear slipped into her mind, and she bit her lip as her nails dug deeper into her palm. She would not let the fear control her. She was in control, all she had to say was—

"Stop."

And he did, but this time his hand lingered, not on her breast, and not in a way that worsened her fear. Instead, that evil hand wandered over her belly and tickled around her stomach, eliciting a soft giggle as the fire within her dulled slowly to embers. She was in control, and there was something else she wanted—but she could deal with that later herself. Because she knew Kristoff wouldn't be ready for it, and neither, really, was she. But she did feel a little off balance. Because of something very simple.

"I have two breasts," she stated matter of factly.

"I know," he grinned down at her. "But this one"—he gently tapped her left breast—so damnably _frustrating_ —"is more perfect." Then he leaned down to kiss her, and silly little things like that didn't matter anymore. Because anyone who could make sweat and reindeer work for them deserved everything they got. Including the tumble onto the floor. She lay there, red hair spilling like a frizzy halo, her insides melted completely. If she was going to be reduced to a puddle resembling a certain famous princess, at least she'd be a happy puddle. Very happy, when Kristoff reached over to kiss her again.


	56. Anger & Acceptance

Elsa found Marshal Gerhardt on the overlook, outside of town, standing at her parents' graves. She could tell he was troubled from the way he bowed his head, the way he stood so stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. It was eerie, her father had been the same way, what few times she remembered seeing him actually bothered enough by an issue not to hide it. Seeing the Marshal standing there gave her mixed feelings; on the one hand this was a man that had known her father, and known him well, and on the other hand it was a painful reminder that she no longer had a father either. The Marshal's voice was carried to her in brief snatches by the gentle breeze that stirred the grass around the gravestones.

"Definitely your daughter… mad sometimes… she's headstrong, determined… you did well, Agdar. She's…" Elsa remained where she was, hands resting in her lap. It felt like she was intruding on what was supposed to be a private moment. Unburdening, perhaps, or simply keeping up appearances to the former King of Arendelle. "…ess Anna is safe now… going on. Not unlike… I hope I'm wrong. Then… always been a problem… war, because they tortured…"

Gerhardt stepped closer to the gravestone, and Elsa imagined him closing his eyes as he reached out to touch it. Perhaps this was where he got his strength to oppose her, in order to keep Arendelle safe. She caught a final few words on the breeze, and hearing the uncertainty in the tone, she pledged to herself to try to be more civilized towards the Marshal—even if she might never like him. "…tried to keep them safe…wish I had your strength. Her strength…"

When the Marshal turned, she saw no surprise in his eyes, concealed or otherwise. Had he known she was there? And for how long?

"He would have been proud of you, Queen Elsa," Marshal Gerhardt spoke softly as he approached. "More than you know."

"I—Thank you, Marshal Gerhardt," Elsa inclined her head in a slight bow as she replied, formally acknowledging the Marshal.

"The situation must be dire, for you to have sought me out this far."

"The Southern Isles' heir in my castle, Weaseltown's fleet beneath my waters, and the man responsible for harming my sister so lies in my dungeons. I am surprised you sent me no messengers yourself."

"I didn't have to, your majesty," Gerhardt walked past the Queen, down the trail back to the town. Elsa turned her chair to follow him. "I knew lieutenant Erikson would inform you. I had thought you might like a more personal message."

Elsa blushed slightly, but held her tongue. Gerhardt had a point after all, and he knew Hank to be reliable. It also made it seem like he was not so controlling or manipulative—but after a moment she realized he might be more manipulative, using Hank to send that message, hinting that he knew what was going on between them. Which was nothing out of the ordinary for a _houscarl_ and his liege. Maybe she was just over-thinking things, trying to stay a step ahead of the Marshal. She remained silent until they reached the barracks, and if Gerhardt was in any way uncomfortable with such silence, he did a masterful job of hiding it. Or, she considered, he might be just as lost in thought as I am right now.

"Tea?" was the Marshal's first question, seating himself behind his large campaign desk, placing a kettle over the fire in the hearth. Elsa tried to hide the fact she was taking a particularly deep breath before answering. His casual tone had her on edge, just as it had the first time he had offered her refreshment. But she was going to be more civilized, and that started now. She might not be able to be actively kind and considerate towards him, but she could at least be polite. It would have to be enough.

"Please," her voice was soft, diplomatically calm. "What blends do you have?"

"There are kinds?" he asked in return, voice light. She just caught the grin he was hiding before saying anything more. He still seemed to pause for effect. "It's a strong, black Assam blend. I believe there may also be some English Breakfast, down in the mess, if you'd prefer."

"No, thank you," Elsa smiled a little as she talked. "I'll have the Assam; clarity of mind would be most helpful."

The kettle began to whistle, and Gerhardt poured two cups of tea, sliding one still atop its saucer over to the far side of his desk. Elsa picked it up and took an experimental sip. It had a rich, malty flavour, and was rather stronger than the Darjeeling she normally preferred. It was also hot enough she was forced to take a few rapid breaths to cool herself again. It took only the barest touch of her powers to cool the tea to something more easily drinkable.

"This blend is quite strong, but not unpleasant."

"I prefer it to coffee, personally." Gerhardt set his cup down against the corresponding saucer, taking on the mantle of Marshal once more, no longer simply trying to be a genteel host. "I assume you have come seeking assistance in a military matter; quite possibly with the involvement of both the Southern Isles and Weselton."

"I have," Elsa confirmed, still slightly annoyed that Gerhardt could read such situations so easily. But, it _was_ his job, and her father had good reasons for appointing him. "I need your help in another matter. As I mentioned earlier, I hold a man known as Count Langenberg in my castle dungeons. He is the root cause of all the harm that has befallen my sister, and I want answers—reliable answers"—Elsa took a deep breath before continuing, wary of revealing this weakness around Gerhardt—"and I do not trust myself not to kill him once I have those answers. Or before.

"He has caused my sister and I so very much pain that my dearest wish is to repay him in kind, no matter how unwise or immoral that is. I am, in fact, less afraid of killing the Count than I am of what I might—or could—do with my magic beforehand. I do not wish to find out if I am that kind of person—I will not take the chance, not with my magic."

"You want me to question him."

"Or someone you trust. But I need him alive and unharmed, just in case there is a chance we could sue for peace with Weaseltown—who have apparently declared war against us."

Gerhardt froze, teacup halfway to his lips. Slowly, using both hands to steady himself, he placed that cup back on its saucer. Elsa stared at him—surely he had known, his spies had been able to tell him, or in his questioning of the captives he had figured that much out. But his shock lasted only seconds, and suddenly he was rearranging small metal ships and troops on the campaign map, setting his tea off to one side. Elsa watched with interest, trying to figure out what he was doing, what the map served at this moment. It was much like a game of chess, except the Marshal was playing against himself, moving the pieces for both sides. On a small piece of paper he was frantically scribbling notes and numbers as he moved the forces around. He set the paper and pen down carefully, placing an ornate lead paperweight on top of them both.

"The assassination attempt was their declaration—we know they were setting this up for a long time now, given Larsson's involvement. The Third-rates were likely carrying the infantry, although I'm not sure the Southern commander knew that. Weselton wasn't just planning to kill you, your majesty. They want _Arendelle_."

Elsa clenched her fists, letting out a short, sharp breath through her nostrils. Her brow furrowed in genuine anger as she fumed silently, trying to calm herself before making a reply. Though part of her wanted it to be, this situation was not Gerhardt's fault. In part, it might have been her own, given that it was she that had made the decision to cut off trade with Weaseltown. But the Duke had, after all, tried to kill her. The petty little ruler of that nation deserved everything he got.

"There is another issue," Elsa's voice was low, carefully maintaining her calm. "Weaseltown's agents turned my own citizens against me. In so doing they have forced me to make a difficult choice, while all our allies and enemies look on. They will all see how I deal with traitors and assassins, how I punish my own citizens, perhaps in the hopes of turning more against me out of fear of what I might do."

"That, your majesty, is likely a most unexpected consequence of their failure and your resilience. We have rooted out their spy, and Weselton now has only second- and third-hand reports of what is now happening in Arendelle. I know our allies well enough to know that they would not balk at your plans, and neither will they condemn us for them. Any attack against a member of the royal family must be taken seriously, and the perpetrators punished accordingly. May I be honest for a moment?"

"I have never known you to be anything but, Marshal."

"Very well. Aside from the cold fire of vengeance you showed in rescuing your sister, I had thought you weak on matters of law and punitive action such as this. I make no bones about it—and aside from using that knowledge to provoke and abuse you in the harbour—I keep such opinions to myself. I was wrong about you. I have been wrong before, not often, but it happens. I wonder if something within you has changed, your majesty, as you appear to have a greater thirst for vengeance now—even against your own citizens. Even those born to members of your own council. I find myself quite impressed by your conviction in this matter."

Holding her tongue, the Queen of Arendelle took a deep breath, drawing herself back under control, spreading her hands towards the floor in order to dispel the icy fractals spiraling out from her chair. Gerhardt's words had needled her, though she knew they were not meant to do so deliberately. Not this time, at least, and while his bluntness was grating, his honesty was also refreshing. She had never caught a word of a lie from him, no duplicity or deception. It was not that he was simple—far from it, she knew—it was that he considered his time, and that of others, most likely, to be valuable, so he did not mince words, he spoke his mind and dealt with the consequences. He even went so far as to apologize in front of the other council members for his transgressions. She had to accept, eventually, that Marshal Gerhardt was, in point of fact, a good man, much as she might personally dislike him and his manners.

There was another matter, of course. The Marshal was a military man, through and through. He had likely seen battle, and death, possibly having stared into the face of it—she still remembered his comments about the dead having names, and the haunted look behind his eyes when he had said that. He knew it from hard won experience, but there was still something that felt wrong. It was the fact he was impressed by her conviction. He approved of what she was doing, and for some reason that approval was _worse_ than anger or defiance would have been. She wasn't sure if it was even remotely rational to feel that way—because it was so unlike her, not to be ashamed, but to be approved of, and especially by someone such as Gerhardt.

She let out a short, sharp exhalation in her frustration, breath turning to fog in the air. Her powers were not completely in check, and she was hardly slighted. But maybe that was a good thing, because whenever her powers exposed her inner turmoil, she knew when to pull back—even if she hadn't always managed to do so. Knowing what she should do did not mean she was always capable of acting upon it. She had been unfair to a number of people, and while some may have deserved it, she knew others did not. But that was not the issue she came to the Marshal to resolve.

"We need to send a clear message to Weaseltown that attacks against myself, my family, or my people will be met with the harshest possible consequences," Elsa's voice was hard, edged with a tranquil fury. "But we cannot alienate our allies, and nor can we prosecute a war of conquest. I will not use my magic for this—any message should be clear and direct without recourse to such intimidation. I should not _need_ to use my powers to send such a message to one petty little man ruling a petty little kingdom. That message should also dissuade any other kingdoms from attempting any similar acts of regicide or kidnapping"—Elsa paused, rolling herself towards Gerhardt's campaign desk, feeling the magic beginning to surge through her hands—"but if they do…"

An icicle formed in her clenched fist, point down like an assassins blade. She slammed the makeshift weapon into Gerhardt's desk with her left hand so hard that the icicle stood on its own, fractals of ice branching and plating out from where it had struck. She would not truly use her powers so aggressively or destructively—the cost to her soul would be too great. But if someone were to threaten Anna's safety, or the safety of her people, then Elsa was perfectly willing to sacrifice that part of herself in order to ensure it never happened again. She had already done it once, and it clawed at her mind in idle moments. Let Gerhardt interpret the icicle stabbed deep into the wood of his desk however he wanted; she would find a way to ensure her sister's safety without magic. She would find a way to keep her people safe—even if, at times, it had to be from herself.

* * *

"Dad?" The quiet question dug a blade deep into Søren's heart. He could hardly fail to recognize his son's voice, but he knew he would not be hearing it for much longer. After talking with Gudbrand, and Vanja, later, he knew more than when he had visited Konrad earlier. He knew that he was not a failure as a father, and neither was Konrad a failure as his son. He also knew that sometimes people simply made bad decisions, and at times, those were punished far more harshly than might be strictly necessary. He even understood why Elsa had to do what it was she was doing. It could not have been an easy decision—she had waited at least a day after gathering her information. She had consulted with the council.

She had even had the common decency to tell him to his face, not shrinking behind messengers and royal seals. She had explained her reasons—and when he had responded in anger about losing his son, she had responded that he was lucky to have had children at all. In the heat of the moment he'd missed that, but now, facing the cell his son was in, contemplating the future, he understood Elsa's outburst far better than before. A strange mixture of anger and resentment, and not a little sadness. The Queen would never have an heir—the Royal Princess might, and her child would inherit the throne. But not Elsa's—because of the accident, she was now barren.

After all of that, he still didn't feel lucky. Not when he knew that his son would be hanging from the gallows in only a few short days. He wasn't even sure where to start talking, what to talk about. All he knew was that he didn't want to leave things unresolved, he wanted his final words to Konrad to be comforting, even though their reality was anything but. Søren didn't answer his son at first. At least, not with any words, not trusting his voice not to break. Instead, he lifted Konrad from the bench he was sitting on and embraced him as warmly as he could.

"I don't want to die," Konrad's voice was not angry, it was small, and scared, and Søren noticed the change from the last time he had visited. Clearly his son was realizing just what his imprisonment meant, how appallingly he had acted. Søren shook his head slowly, and they both sat on the stone bench that served as Konrad's bed as the palace guard locked the cell once more. Søren reached out, right arm wrapping around his son's shoulders, pulling him close. Konrad had drifted away from him, and Søren knew he had no one to blame but himself for that. He knew—at least, people were telling him—he had not failed as a father. It didn't feel that way, and that only added to his guilt about failing Sylvi in the same way. He couldn't protect those he loved most.

He even had some love left for Queen Elsa, after everything was said and done. That forced him to imagine the harbour, the stories he'd heard. He didn't know if he had lieutenant Erikson's courage; Marshal Gerhardt's capacity for swift retribution. And now he questioned whether he would have been one of the townspeople who had helped the Queen, or one of the many that had simply milled around in confusion. He did not stop to consider what would have happened had he been next to Elsa's attackers—had he been next to Konrad. Everything would be different, but he had been talking with the silversmiths at the time, who were complaining about a lack of precious metals to work into their art.

"Dad, I'm scared."

Konrad's voice cut through his reverie, and Søren knew he'd fallen into the same trap as before. Or maybe this time he was merely distracting himself from the painful truth. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. He didn't want to lose this tenuous bond, frayed so close to the edge. There was a time when he knew what to say, what to do, how to act in certain situations. But that had been a long time ago, and all he could do now was make one small admission.

"I'm scared too."

"You'll be okay; you're strong." Søren sagged at that, burying his head in his hands. If only Konrad knew how strong he wasn't, how hard he'd had to fight to keep moving forward, every single day. Because in the end it had been his duty as a father to Konrad that had brought him back from the brink. His friends as well, who noticed how he'd begun to change. Even the King, who had delivered a very personal message.

"Konrad, I don't know if I'm strong _enough_. If you… when… after—just, after…" after you're gone, he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It would have been too much to admit what they both knew as the truth. He was haunted by enough demons as it was, every bad choice, every little mistake. He'd done his best to atone for his past, but apparently the gods were less than happy with his offerings—they wanted more. And now he was powerless to change things. "I fell apart after Sylvi died. I couldn't keep her safe. I can't keep you safe."

"You did your best. You tried so hard. It's… it's my fault," Konrad was trying to be reassuring, but Søren could hear the uncertainty and fear in his voice. It wasn't right, needing comfort from his son this way. It wasn't right, either, the way they would be parted. Yet if he interfered with fate's design, he knew everything would come undone. He had few enough friends now as it was. He had no need to be a fugitive, in exile, unable to ever return home.

"It's not your fault Konrad, it's theirs—the men who used you. They're going to die for their crimes. And…" Søren stood, suddenly angry, needing a target for that rage. "You should have listened to your mother!"

But instead of being frightened, Konrad laughed, leaning back against the stone wall behind the bench. "I did. She was there for me… until you had to be."

"And I wasn't?!" It was only half a question, but in his anger Søren was having trouble thinking clearly.

"Not when I needed you! You forgot me! You left me alone. You left me… and it was worse, because at least mom was dead, so I knew she didn't hate me."

Søren knew he shouldn't speak out in his current state. He also knew not to speak of ill of the dead. But anger clouded his mind, and it was all he could do not to lash out and strike something. But all he could do was not enough, and he felt his fist meeting flesh. All emotion fled as the grim realization sunk in that in his anger he had struck his own son, without reason, without want, all because he couldn't handle his world changing. But when he found the courage to open his eyes he was not staring at a bruised young man, but a defiant teenager, hands out like a pugilist's trainer, capturing his father's fist in both hands. But his voice still shook when he finally managed to speak.

"You don't want to hurt me, dad, you just need time. Like after mom died," Konrad's voice became firmer the longer he spoke. "Run away again, I don't care. You ran away after mom died." Søren lashed out again, and again Konrad caught his fist, cushioning the blow. "You loved her too much. You didn't have enough left for me!" Another blow caught against an open palm—but Konrad would not be driven back. He stood his ground, defiant. "You didn't care about me! Not until they _made_ you care!"

"Liar!" The next strike was so forceful Konrad collapsed onto the stone bench, stumbling when he backed into it. Søren's angry yell echoed through the dungeon, but the guard did nothing. "I was there for you when no one else was! I made time for you!"

"It wasn't enough!" And this time Konrad fought back, rising and throwing a powerful right hook, catching his father in the shoulder, forcing him to step back. "I was your son!" Another blow, and Søren was forced onto the defensive, holding his arms crossed in front of him, not trusting himself not to hurt his own son. "I was your son!" Another blow, but there was no fire behind it. "I was your son…" Søren didn't know what to make of the repetition. There was not a single word of deception between them right now. "I was your son…" it came out as a choked whisper, Konrad falling to the floor, sitting brokenly against the bench. "…and you left me."

Søren sat heavily, virtually collapsing against the far wall, trying to put as much distance between himself and the person he'd almost become. He would have beaten his son, a son sentenced to death. A son convinced he had been left behind. It was almost more than he could take, but Søren still sought a way out, a way to make things better, at least, until… until that day was over. Any words he left with now would not be enough, but he had nothing else left after his anger was spent.

"You are my son, and you always will be."

Konrad hiccoughed, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Make something. To remember me. Please… I don't want to be forgotten like _them_. Please."

Søren could only nod—how could he deny his own son's dying wish? He nodded again, voice low. It was all he could do now, faced with the reality that what he made might be the only thing left of his son. Konrad's legacy had to be more than just a memory. Søren knew what it meant. It had to be something that served not just as a reminder, but also as a beacon of hope. A sign that one day he could be better. At what; by what standard; in which way; he did not know. Just… better.

* * *

Bishop Gudbrand finished writing the next line of his speech in his ledger before turning to the other occupant of the chapel's anteroom. "More tea, Hanne?"

"Please. And you're avoiding the question, Clarence. It's not like you to be this evasive."

"We all have some secrets to keep," Gudbrand smiled at his oldest friend, pouring more tea into their cups. "It's also meant to be a surprise—can't have you ruining that now, can we?"

Justicar Kristoffersen's face was a mask of affronted dignity. "Just what are you implying here?"

"Eighteen thirty-three. March."

"I thought the idea was to forgive and forget, according to your holy books."

"Supposedly," Gudbrand offered him a thin, mischievous smile.

"Keep your secrets then, I'll just let Ari talk with you," Kristoffersen supplied with a wink.

"You wouldn't dare," but Gudbrand's tone was light. He relented, eventually passing his ledger to Kristoffersen so the justicar could peruse the contents of the current page. It took him a minute or two to finish, at which point he handed the leather bound volume back to the bishop.

"I assume this is to come after the traitors have had their sentence carried out."

"Quite. I have a feeling that being forgiven for her actions _after_ the resolution of what appears to have been her hardest decision will do much more to salve her conscience and soothe her troubled soul than it would coming before that event."

"Very astute of you, Clarence," Kristoffersen smiled warmly. "I can see why you want to do this, for the kingdom as well. Politics is an evil beast at the best of times."

"Perhaps not by nature, but that of its masters. The same can, unfortunately, be said of religion—otherwise we would not be having this very discussion. At least this time it's religion twisting politics to ennoble the latter. I detest the reverse, for politics seems to corrupt religion so easily, and many do not care to question why."

"It's more than a little disappointing, seeing your beliefs twisted around like that, I'm sure. I might not seem to hold faith in any gods, Clarence, but I never doubted you were always trying to do what was right. You… I guess you may always have been the better man between us."

"Hah, don't sell yourself short, Hanne, you're better than a lot of people I could mention. You've got conviction, and determination, and a sense of justice—even if it comes from the laws of the people and not from the scriptures. And in our little debates you have—as I hope I have—have always taken the time to at least try to understand my arguments. You respect my position, even if you can't believe in something yourself."

"You don't deserve anything less, and that's the truth," Kristoffersen graced the bishop with a small grin. "But just because you feel everyone deserves a second, or third, or even higher chance, doesn't mean it's right. The law is clear on that point. There is such a thing as an unforgivable crime."

"Not if the perpetrator is willing to repent their sins. There is nothing that cannot be forgiven with sufficient grace or time."

"What about what is rumoured to have happened to the Royal Princess?" Kristoffersen's voice hardened. "I would never forgive that—and not just because she's royalty. She's only eighteen, and given how protective the Queen seemed of her during our last meeting, I don't think those scars will go away."

"I think you might be wrong on that last point. Queen Elsa herself assured me that Princess Anna is recovering, albeit slowly, when we last met. The scars will fade, in time. As to your previous point, what was done could be forgiven—but only if the perpetrator showed true remorse and repentance for their actions, and was willing to make amends in full to their victim. What is less forgivable is the way they twisted the words of the Divine in order to justify their actions, especially against the Queen. They have dragged my faith through their filth, and I will not stand for it."

Gudbrand took a breath, holding up a hand to stall any response from the Justicar. He wasn't finished yet.

"So, I will restore the good name of my faith, in the spirit of the Divine, and show both Arendelle and the wider world that religion is a power for good, and that that is how it should be used. We, as a people, will formally forgive the Queen for her transgressions; we will also offer her the clemency of the Divine, such that she may feel she is forgiven by a power greater than herself—and that the laity in our allies and enemies nearby should see that we, and He, are entirely capable of accepting the entirety of who and what she is."

"And just what is she, Clarence?"

"A scared young woman, forced to accede to the throne of her father far too early in her life, haunted by events from her past that were nothing more than unfortunate accidents. A devoted young monarch who almost lost her entire family. A good woman, thrown into the hardest trials of her life—and she has not broken. Mostly, she is just a good person, who thinks she has been cursed with her magic. At first I thought it might be a curse, the way it erupted, the way she stopped my arguments against her—but I was wrong. In hindsight it appears as if that same magic were protecting her, regardless of whether there was true threat to her person or not.

"I have seen the beauty in her magic, the tenderness hidden deep within her soul. Her magic is a gift; so much so that she was granted boon from the Divine himself."

Kristoffersen's eyebrows rose. "You have evidence of the Divine—through Queen Elsa's powers?"

"No, no I don't. I have supposition and theories. But tell me this, at least: Do you believe ice magic has the power to spark life, to create a mind; a soul?"

"I… I honestly don't know. I think I would seek your advice with such questions, Clarence."

"Thank you," Gudbrand chuckled, sipping at his tea. "It simply made sense to me. Only the Divine has the power to grant a being a soul, to bring something fully to life. Perhaps, in her darkest moment, she unwittingly called to Him, and He answered. He answered her, Hanne. Her."

"So you're telling me that the Divine has chosen her somehow, marked her out for some special destiny?"

"Yes."

"Your faith is as unshakeable as ever. I envy that sometimes. I still want evidence."

"Scientist."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I do believe that science has given us far more progress in the last hundred years than religion gave us in the last thousand."

Gudbrand raised his fists in a fair imitation of a pugilist's fighting stance. His voice was full of barely suppressed laughter. "I fear we may come to blows over that statement, my friend."

Kristoffersen laughed deeply, setting his cup and saucer against the edge of Gudbrand's desk. "You know I could not strike a man of the cloth—it wouldn't be fair."

"We'll talk about it later, I'm sure you have some work to be finishing this afternoon."

"I do, I do. But certainly, we will talk. I do not think science and religion have always been so opposed. There are interesting stories from Araby and the surrounding lands. A religion that endorsed science to the fullest—one your Divine tried to destroy during the Crusades. Maybe I should try that one."

Kristoffersen left with a mischievous grin, laughing quietly at the mockingly affronted expression on his best friend's face.

* * *

Búi was lost. Not badly so, but he couldn't find the trail he had been using. He'd taken a wrong turn tracking a hare, stumbled against a log or large rock, and then he had fallen headfirst into the gully in which he now lay. There was a soft murmuring in the distance, formless words upon the wind. Búi decided to follow it, wiping a hand across his forehead, relieved when it came away clear of blood. No real damage, luckily. The murmuring voices were louder, but still indistinct. He couldn't make out a single word.

The soil beneath his boots grew softer, and leaf litter crunched underfoot. Sunlight shafted through the broken canopy overhead, casting subtle shadows and creating a dappled light against the forest floor. In the distance something glittered and shone. He knew gold could sometimes be found in rocks upon the surface, but most of the mines at home were deep underground. It was unlikely in the extreme to be gold—especially as Arendelle had its own well developed mining industry, but for iron rather than gold. He edged cautiously towards the shining object, crossbow in hand. The voices grew louder still as he approached.

It was only a forest stream. He had been on a rise above it, the sun striking it at the perfect angle so he could see it through the trees. Now he was even further from the trail, from the cave that was his home, and any food he had left stored there. The stream might prove better anyway, and there had to be caves nearby, or something he could construct a shelter from. Other animals would come to drink from the stream—hunting would be easier—and it was large enough that fish might also swim through it. It was also a ready supply of clean water, and that simple fact was more important than anything else.

Something in the distance pulled him forwards, his curiosity growing with every step. It was a small patch of white amidst the dark forest floor. It stood out as unnatural; it didn't belong. As he drew closer he could see why. The white had a slight hint of blue about it, but it was not solid. It was patchy, spiky, but perfectly flat across the dirt on which it rested. It was a stencil of fine powder. Powder that chilled his fingertips and melted against his palm. Snow. The symbol had been made of snow.

Snow.

The hairs rose on the back of his neck. Was the witch-queen out here? Right now? Was she planning to finish what she had started at the fort? Was she _that_ vengeful? Then Búi remembered the fight, the way she'd used her powers, how Sten had been frozen to death and somehow preserved forever. Yes, the witch-queen was vengeful enough to finish the job permanently. He started to wonder if his survival at the fort was little more than a cosmic accident—because by rights he should have been dead along with the rest of his companions. But right now he simply couldn't help his curiosity. The mystery of snow in the forest was worth investigating.

There was another dusting of snow, fallen half against a large tree, looking almost like a handprint with the way it feathered out. Just as cold. Ahead he could see a larger patch of white in a small clearing between a stand of smaller trees. Three of the symbols. They had more form now, complexity. Snowflakes. Each symbol was a perfect snowflake, rayed stars, and identical. It was only mid-afternoon, yet the temperature was falling sharply—just like it had the morning the witch-queen attacked. He shivered, not sure if he was merely cold, or feeling some kind of supernatural dread.

He pressed on, and the next patch of white he saw contained seven near perfect snowflakes, arranged in a more ordered pattern. To his left and right, just at the edges of his vision through the forest, he could see more white patches. They were getting closer and closer together. Drawing in to some kind of centre. That was where the lines of ice began, and the air became colder still. But the strange thing about this snow, about the ice, was that it touched only the floor of the forest. It did not touch branches, nor leaves, nor the high boughs of the canopy overhead. It fell around rocks, not on them.

The ice line became two, splitting out at a sharp angle, drawing back together and erupting into a pattern of staggering complexity. He had no words to describe the sheer intricacy of the path the myriad lines of ice were taking across the forest. Perfectly symmetrical and mirrored. They soon hatched across each other so densely that it was impossible to tell them apart—they had merged into one thin sheet of ice, just a little proud from the earth, forming a perfectly flat plane for several yards around their centre. There was no one at the centre of that circle, but on the far side he could see the way the circle branched out again. Six times around its edge. Another snowflake.

Three columns of stone marked the centre of the formation, two of them slightly offset. There was writing on them, all hard angles and thick lines. There was no way to read it. Ice crept up the side of the central stone like ivy clinging to a wall. It fanned out in strange fractals, seeming almost as if it were fighting the very stone itself. He reached out a hand, a single finger, feeling the chill growing more intense as his flesh approached the stone. There was a strange jolt as his finger touched the ice and stone.

Cracks splintered the ice beneath him, racing outwards faster than he could follow. The ice shattered into glistening shards, then those shards dissolved to white powder, and drifted away upon the wind. The ice stayed wrapped around the stone, evident nowhere else. Búi found himself wondering what the significance of this was. This was strange ice, magical, infernal perhaps, but seemingly unconnected to the witch-queen. He walked back towards the stream, following the sound and the shadows.

Behind him, he never saw the ice at the base of the stone, creeping up just a little further, a little thicker. And out from that fell the first snow. It was just _there_ , falling to the ground only inches below. The tendrils of ice covered a single word inscribed in Elder Futhark.

 _Ismakt_.


	57. Duelling Forks

The sun was low in the afternoon sky, and almost half of Weselton's fleet lay at the bottom of the fjord. Commodore Nikolaus Westergard was now growing worried. The raid the previous night had gone well—that was why Weselton's fleet had been so savaged. So much so that the remaining ships had opted to surrender rather than face the same fate, not knowing how close to victory they would have been had they had a competent commander. He had expected his forces to return with both his twin brother—the Crown Prince of the Southern Isles, and the Duke of Weselton. That he didn't have the one would not have been an issue, but he didn't have either of those men, and by the reports he was getting, sitting comfortably in his stateroom, it wasn't his fault. Neither was it the fault of his men.

It was, by dint of circumstance, Arendelle's fault that he had neither his brother, nor a high ranking enemy officer to bargain with. It was a simple case of bad luck, or perhaps fortuitous timing—because Weselton's ships would not have been nearly so easy to conquer had they not been fighting on two fronts. It was frustrating, but he could not act against Arendelle due to the fact he and his brother were supposed to be establishing peace and goodwill between their kingdoms. It was also possible that Arendelle had no idea who it was they held, especially considering the reports of an assassination carried out by Arendellen citizens. _That_ had been a supremely interesting piece of information gleaned from the captain of one of the captured ships.

It might turn out that both Weselton and the Southern Isles were being held to account for the death of the Queen. There was an irony to that, he had to admit, though he wasn't sure how to address the issue fully. It was likely, in any case, that both Frederik and the Duke would be held somewhere in the castle, so all he needed to do was get inside, and study the layout of the structure. It was important that Frederik be protected, even from his own fool self at times. But there was also the possibility he had gone willingly, attempting to use his influence as royalty in order to gain an audience with… whoever it was that had replaced the Queen.

Because it wouldn't be her sister—not for a long time, if the rumours among the Weselton scuttlebutt held any fragment of truth. A steward would be the worst outcome, a caretaker monarch until the Princess was fit to rule again—assuming she was ever released. It might be a council, prone to bickering, indecisive, hard to sway but also slow to act. There was another small fact that Nikolaus found interesting, and that was that there had been no communication from the party that had kidnapped the Royal Princess. The harbour was frozen, but there were cliff paths, night runners across the ice, signal lamps… a great number of ways to convey a message to a distant party. But there had been no attempts at such communication, and if he had been the commander of the Weseltonian detachment, Nikolaus would have been very worried by this point in time.

This in turn led to speculation about the fate of such a force, checking facts and figures—or what passed for them among the scuttlebutt—against the known strengths of Arendelle's and Weselton's military arms. He spread a collection of ships and other figures across a map of the kingdoms, plotting the moves he would have to make as both sides, operating on imperfect information. There just was not enough information to resolve those conflicts, so instead he turned to his own raid, how it could be better planned; how it could possibly have been countered. Half an hour later he had come to the conclusion that whoever had been in command of Weselton's fleet had been a complete imbecile. There was no other option.

That was also why he had decided to brave the icy harbour, in the morning, in order to get answers. At the worst, the Southern Isles would have lost their Crown Prince—who was important—and and a decorated navy commodore. Who was rather less important than the prince despite being his twin brother. The _Victory_ would be left in good hands, with captain Oskar Kjeld. His course of action decided, Nikolaus retired for the afternoon, taking an early dinner while setting out orders in the event he did not manage to return within a day of his departure. It was unlikely, he knew, but always better prepared than not.

Those, however, were issues for tomorrow, to be faced upon completing a full night's rest. Sleep might provide him with the answers he sought, facts and figures percolating through his subconscious—or it might simply refresh his mind, allowing him to see other paths come morning. For now, before attempting sleep, he retrieved a book from behind the locked doors of his cabinet. It wasn't so much for security as it was to ensure the books didn't find themselves spilled across the floor of his cabin in rough seas. The book he had chosen was _Somnium_ , a work by Kepler. Unlike most of Kepler's works, this was not a scientific treatise, but a romance of science, and a strange, speculative tale about the island of Levania.

It was also a book Nikolaus had read several times, but he considered it a valuable story, and always seemed to find himself returning to it. Just like his first edition of _Niels Klim_. But for now he would explore the lands of Levania, and when his eyes grew tired, he would sleep. In the morning he would see his brother.

* * *

Elsa was sitting at the formal dining table with her sister, Hank, and Kristoff. Gerda had just delivered the main, and half the people at the table were continuing a halting conversation, mouths full of arctic char. She would have been put out by that, but Elsa knew it was progress, if somewhat indecorous. It meant Anna was talking, and had the confidence to do so in public—or at least in company—once more. It was a heartening sign, but Elsa still made sure to subtly indicate to her sister that she should at least swallow her food before speaking.

All things considered, her sister was doing well being able only to use either a fork or a knife, not both at once. It was a good thing the fish was firm yet flaky; even better that the summer vegetables served with the fish were either small, or diced into small cubes. It was also less tempting for Anna to simply use her fingers at that point, something Elsa knew was a constant risk with her sister if they weren't in what was considered polite company. Sometimes when they were, too. It wasn't that etiquette lessons had been beyond her, it was that she hadn't thought she would need them. She needed them more now, Elsa quickly decided, given that Anna was willfully ignoring her attempts at non-verbal communication. A hand against her own startled her enough that icy fractals traced their way around her plate.

"She's going to be alright," Hank said softly, for her ears only. "Annoying you with her constant adventures again, no doubt."

Elsa allowed herself a wan smile, nodding gently. "She's healing."

"More than that, your majesty. The Princess deserves more credit. As do you yourself. You put her needs above your own, above those of the kingdom, unless matters become dire enough to require your intervention, as this morning. That care, that doting manner," Hank inclined his head respectfully, but Elsa saw one eyebrow quirk slightly—a tell. "I believe it deserves a proper title. 'Nurse Elsa' perhaps?"

Elsa frowned, looking sharply at her _houscarl_.

"No? Perhaps 'Nanny' then? Okay, forget that one then," and Hank flashed her a daring smile, full of teeth, carefully shuffling just a little sideways. "Governess it is. Governess Elsa."

She couldn't help herself, not really, considering it was _Hank_ attempting to tell a joke. Even if it was at her expense. She laughed, more at his impression of a snooty, upper-class tone than at his words. It released a tension she hadn't known had been building within her. She smiled warmly, eyes flicking left and right, scanning the room before making a surreptitious gesture with her left hand. Oh yes, let him try drinking that. Of course it wasn't mature, but in current company, Elsa knew she would not be judged for it. Little things. Like the way Hank's hand still lay over hers, almost protectively covering it from the world—had he noticed that little flick?

"Governess Elsa," Hank bowed solemnly, as best as the table allowed. "Do you wish to know what I think the people will call you, in times of memory?"

"I… yes, please. I would like to hear your thoughts on this most pressing matter of dinner conversation, as my sister now appears to be involved in a contest requiring two forks, and the last slice of someone else's fish."

Hank cocked his head, clearly trying to figure out the effect of the contest. "Well, she appears to be winning. The silverware, however, does not. To the question at hand; I believe you will one day be known as Elsa the Compassionate."

"I think it's the most use the silverware has ever…" Elsa heard herself trailing off, realizing what Hank had said. He had, originally, been joking—she might have needed a governess at some point, but she certainly could never see herself becoming one. Nor becoming any kind of person fit to assist in raising a child. That wasn't what he had been implying at any rate. It was that she would be known for her compassion—but how could that be when she had sentenced the son of one of her council members to death; all but attacked Gerhardt on several occasions; when she was in some part responsible for the carnage in the fort at Løkarna. Blinking rapidly, she turned to Anna, and suddenly she knew. If people had seen the connection between them—the one allowed to be seen in public, not the one they might secretly share some—and with that Elsa cut herself off savagely, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. They had no place in this room, with these people, at this time of day.

"Haha! Victory! You trai—mmmf." Elsa watched, mildly amused as Anna finally struck the final piece of char from Kristoff's plate, crowing in delight as she lifted the fork to her mouth. Holding the fork steady with one massive hand, Kristoff deftly stole the last bite of his fish, and before Anna could complete her protest he was kissing her. The fork wavered, seeming to Elsa to be between attempting to stab Kristoff for his audacity, or the table, in simple frustration. Neither happened—the fork fell from limp fingers, and after a drawn out moment the mountain man was gently forced away from the princess. "You taste like fish."

"Like you don't?" Kristoff smiled warmly, earning a chagrined smile from the young woman seated next to him. Elsa looked away, mildly embarrassed to bear witness to this kind of banter—even though it was exactly the kind of talk she wanted to share with her sister. Anna whispered in the mountain man's ear, and he perked up, looking straight at Elsa. Why is he looking at me? Elsa had time to think, before he started talking, placing his hands flat against the table.

"May I permission your have to sister your court?" Kristoff blinked, confused. "Wait, what?" Anna giggled behind him, and Elsa was trying very hard to suppress a laugh of her own. "…that came out wrong."

Hank chuckled softly, attempting to allow Kristoff some kind of dignity. Elsa took the mountain man's hands in her own, smiling at him. It was quite clear that this had been Anna's idea, and it had obviously taken some courage to ask. Elsa respected that, but she still had to make sure of something, given the graphic descriptions of future actions her sister had given her earlier that day. Sometime shortly after breakfast, in fact. It didn't change matters, and she turned to Anna, beckoning her forward. She just hoped this would go better than the last time.

"I need a moment with my sister first," Elsa said softly enough that only Kristoff should have been able to hear it. Then she turned to Anna, who was cautiously approaching her. "May I speak with you? Alone?"

Elsa watched in growing dismay as her sister stiffened, seeming to draw back from everyone present. She cursed, _sotto voce_. Anna's fist was clenched, but Elsa also noticed that she hadn't refused the request to talk alone either. That was actually quite promising. Wheeling herself just into the hallway, Elsa awaited the arrival of her sister. She didn't have long to wait, Anna nervously closing the door behind her, passing a little wave back to Kristoff—well, Elsa assumed it was to Kristoff, because Hank was _hers_ —and where had _that_ thought come from?

"Anna, I appreciate that you had Kristoff ask me this, but is it really necessary—and more importantly, is it what _you_ want?"

"Kristoff's idea—thought you would like this. Won't change things—maybe reduce rumours around Arendelle. Start new ones too," and Elsa knew that particular look. Anna planned to start a few of those rumours herself. Not that she could be blamed for a spot of mischief after what she'd been through. It was a sign that things were starting to approach some kind of normal, because Anna had never been as straight-laced as she sometimes pretended to be. "And before you ask, we didn't, not even nearly. He stopped me."

"He stopped you?" Elsa asked, incredulous. It wasn't that she hadn't expected that Kristoff would attempt to dissuade her sister from any actions he thought foolhardy—even if she also thought he desired them just as much as she sometimes did. It was more surprising that he had succeeded. Because she knew that once her sister had put her mind to something, there was nothing that could stop her, no force on heaven or Earth that could hold her back. It was willpower and devotion of a kind she had only seen in one other person—and it was quite startling to realize that Marshal Gerhardt had anything in common with Anna. Elsa was quickly brought back to reality by the sound of her sister's voice, unsure not because of fear this time, but a hint of confusion. Elsa was also confused, realizing at last that her sister was referring not to Gerhardt—whom she knew nothing about—but to Kristoff, who had been left in the dining hall.

"Elsa, he's good—a good guy. Really. Just kinda rough around… umm, rough around the edges?" Anna had a warm, subtle smile on her lips, her fingers moving slowly against the fabric of her dress. Her eyes were slightly glazed, distant, recalling a fond memory—and perhaps a recent one. Elsa gently took her sister's hand between her own, pulling lightly. Anna knelt, allowing them to see eye to eye, and to speak properly face to face.

"Unrefined," Elsa agreed with her sister's assessment of the mountain man, reducing it to a single, accurate, word. She smiled as Anna forced back a laugh. "But you're right. If he stopped you—with good reason—and you could accept how he did so, then he must be good."

"He is," and here Anna wore a smile Elsa was tempted to call witless—even though it was just warm and innocent and naively loving. "Not really at talking. More at… touching."

"You just said you didn't!" Elsa wasn't shouting out of anger, but shock. She knew that Anna wouldn't lie to her. Not again. But that didn't mean she would always tell the whole truth, either. It was also because it created the sudden mental image of her sister and Kristoff, naked, and tangled together in intimate congress. There might have been a touch of jealousy there too.

"We didn't. Really, Elsa, we didn't. I just let—no, I nearly forced—but, I mean, may we, may he?" Elsa closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. She didn't have to know now—in fact, she hoped she wouldn't have to know, ever. But of course Anna liked to talk, and share her experiences, and while she normally relished the experience of that, along with the way it reinforced their bond as sisters, Elsa also knew it meant sometimes she would learn too much.

"May you—oh," Elsa's voice softened, and she kept her tone even, giving Anna's hand a gentle squeeze before letting it fall. "Yes, you may. You have my blessing." It was going to happen anyway, eventually. Anna had more than warmed to Kristoff's advances, and Elsa knew he was trying to be a suitable partner, even if he had no idea of proper manners and decorum. But, he could always be trained. He seemed smart enough after all. He was also nothing like Hans, whose every action had been to serve himself, every lie to make his position better. Kristoff's honesty could be brutal at times, Elsa knew, but it was always in order to help others. Elsa smiled, letting the news sink in as Anna realized what this meant.

Anna shouted with joy, her face cracking into an enormous, beaming grin, as she bounced on the balls of her feet. And as her sister stood, Elsa took note of the fact she was wearing only stockings, no socks or slippers on her feet. She recalled a mischievous night many, many years ago, involving thicker stockings, polished hardwood floors, and a once-sulking five year old Anna. Shaking her head with a small smile, Elsa followed as her sister crashed through the doors into the dining hall.

"Yes," the red haired princess's voice was an excited squeal as she all but tackled Kristoff, nearly pulling him from his chair. He just managed to drop a forkful of stolen fish on Elsa's plate before he disappeared beneath the side of the table like a rapidly sinking ship. His disembodied voice seemed to float up from beneath the ripples pulled in the tablecloth as he had fallen.

"I guess she said yes then, judging by your—pffth, hair—uh, enthusiasm."

"Indeed I did, master Bjorgman. Although traditionally you would need either title or land to be eligible to court royalty."

"What?" A hand rose into view, pulling an elbow onto the table. That elbow became an arm, and Kristoff emerged, hair askew, looking skeptically at the Queen of Arendelle.

"I said traditionally, Kristoff," Elsa winked at him, enjoying the confusion on his face. "As Queen I could easily give you both. For now, however, I believe having my blessing to court Princess Anna will suffice?"

"Suf–fish?" Anna asked, not paying attention, attempting to fix her hair as she rose into view. "Still tastes like fish. I think we need some mint."

"A drink, perhaps," Elsa smiled, raising her glass. Everyone else present followed suit. "To Anna—without whom tonight would have been much less… interesting."

"Hey!" Anna protested, but Elsa could see the confusion in her face—she wasn't sure if she was being complimented or insulted with that remark, and honestly, it was a bit of both. Elsa loved her sister, but she could gladly do without the embarrassment her antics and graphic descriptions evoked in her. It was all worth it, to see that confused smile before they all drank. Except for Hank, who found his wine mysteriously frozen for his earlier jibe at the queen. But now she had a surprise for Anna—and something a little special for herself too.

It took only a few minutes to retrieve the dessert from the castle kitchens, Hank helpfully pushing her chair on the return journey, remaining strangely silent. Helpful, because her hands were full holding the large serving plate and its frosty white contents. Snow cream, topped with cloudberries. At the centre was, of course, a core of chocolate—because neither of the sisters could resist adding a little to any dessert they might lay their hands on. It was a guilty pleasure, but where Anna's happiness was concerned, she really didn't feel all that guilty. Hank's sudden silence on the other hand; well, not so much guilty as apprehensive. She expected some kind of payback now. Her train of thought was once again interrupted by an excited squeal from her sister.

"Are those?!" Anna exclaimed, pointing to the top of the dessert stack.

"Cloudberries," Elsa smiled, sliding the serving plate onto the table between the four occupied settings. "And snow cream—and no, my magic was not involved, only Brigitta, and possibly one of Kjellson's daughters."

"So, all of them, then," Anna replied, taking a small bowl and a large spoon, greedily eyeing up the veritable mountain of cream and rich amber berries. Kristoff took the honours by simply plucking a berry from its resting place and biting into it. Hank followed suit, dipping his in the cream while Anna scooped more than a fair share into her bowl. Elsa quickly realized that if she didn't act fast she would be deprived of the dessert she had so carefully planned. So, with a small bowl and a spoon, she scooped a small serving out of the rapidly shrinking mountain of cream. She made sure to get some of the chocolate as well.

Dessert was mixed with small talk, Anna opening up just a little about her experience in captivity. It also let Hank and Kristoff actually talk, airing out their differences for now, ending with a sort of grudging respect—she didn't know why, but Elsa suspected the two were just so very different it was a miracle they could stand to be in the same room. Almost like her and a certain Marshal, but she pushed the errant thought aside, because dessert was for enjoying, not over-thinking about the day's events. Appetites sated, the four just sat at the table a while longer, talking, and eventually dispersing to their respective homes within the castle.

Elsa enjoyed the sheer simplicity of it. An evening, not wasted, but not spent doing any particular thing either. She wasn't tired, but she had to admit that she felt relaxed. No stress, no pressure, no demands on her time. For a while she could simply be, and it was enough.


	58. Back and Forth

**Warning: Sensuality & Self Love**

* * *

A missing clipper was something to be concerned about. Delayed, not so much. That was why Vanja Ostberg-Lang was currently poring over a nautical chart of the coastlines between Iberia and Arendelle. Iberia—Spain—was not normally stormy during the summer months, and neither was the North Sea. Coastal storms could still blow in from the Atlantic, but they were few and far between this time of year. There were no reports of recent storms, and aside from the ice on the harbour, nothing to delay the passage of Spain's clipper.

But it might just have fallen into the doldrums, or have been pushed back by the polar wind—or forced to take a longer route on a harder tack. She knew only a little about sailing, but it was enough to get by most times. Like with everything else she knew, Vanja could use it to hunt down the really useful information. Information spread across broadsheet or immaculately typeset in encyclopedic volumes. The problem was this time her quarry was not so easy to pin down. The frozen harbour meant no ships in or out, no couriers, no new information. All she had to go on was what she knew, and what she could find in books and charts like these.

A missing or delayed clipper, important though it was, was not so interesting as the report Marshal Gerhardt had given her earlier that same day. Her suggestion of taking Weselton's ships had not been followed to the letter, but its raiding spirit was intact. It wasn't followed for the most interesting of reasons; namely, that someone else had beaten them to the punch. The Southern Isles had launched their own naval action, crippling or destroying half the ships Weselton had brought, and forcing the surrender of the remaining vessels. All done with only a single—albeit massive—First-rate, two Fifth-rates, and a handful of Cutters.

That had opened the door for Arendelle's own raid, taking not just the commander of the fleet—not the Duke of Weselton, but an important underling—and one of the men he had been keeping prisoner, who turned out to be the Crown Prince of the Southern Isles. Which, of course, raised the question of why the Southern Isles were back in Arendelle's sovereign territory. And here Vanja knew she would need a report from the Queen. Not a task she looked forward to, not having to deal with someone who was both royal, and a cripple. Although she did have to admit it might have been nice to see the Queen again—or at least, the Queen's body. She would never know of the thoughts Vanja entertained, and Vanja planned to keep it that way. Even if her thoughts did sometimes stray in unusual places.

Even more unusual was the way Søren seemed to be on her mind more and more. She knew why, of course, but she wasn't done calling herself out on being an idiot quite yet. It was never meant to happen. That was why she had all those walls in her heart. But something, quite clearly, had breached all but the last of those. Perhaps it was the tragedy of the situation, akin, in some strange way, to her own. Not a thought for now—not while she worked. But the thought wouldn't leave her alone, flickering at the edge of her mind. In the end, she pulled the flick-knife from her hair and thumbed it open.

It hit the wall with a solid thud, blade embedded half an inch into the wood. Two inches off target though, the hare silhouette seeming to blink and mock her. But that little surge of anger was enough to fire her to complete her research. It didn't take long to trace the winds and currents, and plot alternate routes. Another day, no more, and the clipper would be declared lost. She expected to find an irate Spaniard at the edge of the harbour, shouting obscenities at the ice by dawn tomorrow. And if it was the captain that had come last time, he would most likely be looking for a rematch.

She'd drink him under the table again, no contest. Even if drinking people under the table was what had led to her… past. Before a certain blacksmith had started looking out for her. Even before his wife had been attacked—but back then, Vanja assumed, at least—it had been a point of honour, of chivalry. He was simply doing the right thing, looking out for someone that maybe didn't need protection anymore. Because she had learned the ways of violence, and even if something were to happen again, this time she knew she could, and would, fight back. She wasn't that helpless young woman anymore.

Even if sometimes she couldn't sleep properly; if her nightmares plagued her; she was better now. Hardened. _Forged_. Her past had broken who she was, and who she might have been. But she had found all the pieces—on her own. And in so doing so she had changed who she was. She had been attacked and broken because she was _weak_. She couldn't stand weakness—in herself or anyone else. Everyone needed to be able to pull their own weight. So she became strong. She walled off her heart, because trust had betrayed her. It didn't matter that she couldn't trust anyone now—she had probably forgotten how, but she didn't care. There was one exception: Marshal Gerhardt. He was honest, able, and at least as hardened as she was.

And he had helped stoke the fire that was her warrior's spirit. He had even likened her to an ancient valkyrie when he learned of her true purpose in becoming strong. He helped her learn how to hunt—and in turn, refine techniques of stalking and camouflage. But most of all, somehow seeing her promise as such a driven woman, and with the ear of the king, had gained her an appointment to the royal council. He also kept an ear to the ground in attempt to find the men that had attacked her… but seven years later, nothing.

She had to move on. Even if she still kept four locks on both doors, and another on the door to her bedroom. Her windows all had storm shutters that could be locked from the inside. It was not a cold night, but still she shivered, drawing closed the furs that had fallen open across her chest. The bruise left by Larsson's attack was fading, but still tender. Not as tender as her… as her body had been after the attack. She pushed the thought aside, not wanting to relive any of that, but considered it too late to walk halfway across town just to get to the _Strykejern_.

But there were other distractions she could use. Distractions only possible in the safety and privacy of this house. The kind of distractions that left her blissfully tired, or tiredly blissful. She knew already that her mind had wandered far, far away from its original course—though she did pen a note about the clipper for the morning. Then, she was left with nothing but her thoughts, and feverish actions—and she found she couldn't decide between the icy beauty of the queen, or the rugged character of her favourite blacksmith. Then again, this was her dream, so why choose…

* * *

"Hank, stop," it wasn't a command—not really—but he stopped anyway, turning to face Queen Elsa.

"Your majesty?"

"Every night, after dinner, without fail, you always seem to return to the castle barracks." Hank considered that statement carefully. The wording was neutral, although hooked to find information from any reply. On the one hand, there was the possibility that Elsa wanted him to stay longer, for her sake. On the other hand, she might still have some fear of attack, or some harm befalling either herself or her sister, especially given all they had been through recently. Princess Anna, of course, was anything but afraid—or at least she professed not to be, her indomitable courage allowing her to do more than just put on a brave face. But he had seen the cracks in that facade, he had a good idea what it was that drove the young princess to learn true fighting techniques. He wondered then if the royal sisters might be more alike than he knew. So his reply was carefully worded, an assurance that also sought clarification of what the queen might need to be assured of.

"You are safe within these walls, your majesty. I am quite sure your father saw to that. The guards are competent and capable, and their new captain seems to serve well."

From the confusion and annoyance that played across Elsa's face, Hank knew that what he had just said was not she wanted to hear. There was a look in her eyes that was closer to exasperation than anything else. If it had been Anna talking, up to some kind of mischief, then he would have understood. But as the look was directed at him, he was a little confused himself. Until he realized the question the Queen was really asking of him. Not why he didn't stay, but why he left in the first place.

"Why, Hank?" Elsa's voice was soft, carrying only a short distance down the hall. "Every night, you leave—we're safe, I know—but you leave, you leave… me. Why?"

So this was why she was annoyed at him, for just doing his job, as if it were a normal rostered duty? "I am your protector, a bodyguard, your majesty. At night, when you are safe inside the castle, I must only remain close—or would you prefer me closer?"

"I—I would, in fact," and it was accompanied by a smile so disarming that Hank completely lost his train of thought. All he could think of was doing something to see that smile again—to see Elsa happy, if a little wistf—oh. And suddenly he understood the way in which he had phrased his question left it open to interpretation, and from the way Elsa had reacted, she was taking his other meaning—not just physical proximity, but the closeness of friends. But he was a professional, and that closeness could be dangerous. In point of fact, it was one of the reasons he had first tried to excuse himself from this very duty. He just hadn't thought she would accept that kind of relationship.

He had to tell her, even if it meant hurting one of them—because they needed distance to be professional. "I was afraid of this."

"Afraid?" Hank caught the tremor in her voice, and knew enough to speak swiftly and surely.

"Els—Queen Elsa, I think I may be falling for you, so I ca—"

A short, tinkling laugh rippled from the Queen. She smiled, beckoning him closer. He found himself kneeling in front of her chair, staring into eyes of crystal blue that held his gaze with a strength he could not name. He found himself lost in the rich blue of her eyes, and when Elsa laughed again, he looked up sharply, coming to his senses. The laughter was not malicious, nor derisive. It was a shade off happy, and Hank realized that she was laughing in relief. Relief made all the more palpable when she spoke.

"I think I'm falling for you, too, Hank." And her smile was a wondrous thing to behold, a silly schoolgirl grin. He hadn't known royalty could be that unashamedly happy. Oh, he had his suspicions about a certain young princess, but proper royalty, regents, he didn't think they were supposed to be happy—they all tended to look so grim and dour in their portraiture. There were exceptions, of course, and maybe Elsa was one of those. But that didn't change the fact the he could not both be close to the Queen, and do his job well. A choice had to be made, or, moreover, he had to present Elsa with that choice; her happiness, or her protection. He couldn't give her both.

"I can't be both your bodyguard and someone you choose to court, you majesty. I have to ask that choose only one role for me, lest I fail at both."

"You're an idiot."

"What?!" He was too shocked to be properly offended.

"Well you are. Maybe not like that, but I have to admit I did not just employ you as my protector because you were a capable soldier. You are to be my _houscarl_ , Hank. That's much more than any mere bodyguard. You're a retainer, a royal messenger, an adviser, and an aide. As you know, there are a lot of tasks I can no longer manage on my own. Your role, in part, is to help me with such tasks. I trust you to be professional about such tasks, but I never said you were not allowed to grow close to me. And for some tasks, it might make things easier for the both of us. Bathing, for example."

"You—I—wait…" Hank's mind was taking a while to process all this new information. Permissions and acceptances, redefined roles and changing attitudes. And that last note… bathing; he would see the Queen naked, every time. Not an altogether unpleasant notion, but it wasn't proper. Did she not have servants for such tasks? Could she not call on them; or was she too embarrassed—no, too proud—to ask for help? Possible, but unlikely. Then why did she plan to call upon him as a glorified royal servant—was this some sort of punishment, atonement for sins of the past. Except… except he might well enjoy, greatly, a lot of the tasks that would compose this supposed atonement.

Or was this, above all else, a second chance? A chance to actually care, to care for someone, and to give them all they needed in the world. That had to be it. Sarah had been too good for this world; and maybe Elsa was too, but she had chosen to remain in it. Even with all the pain, all the heartache, all the chaos. He would give her something to stay _for_. He could do no less, and as the thought passed through his mind, he realized he wouldn't be the only one. Because Elsa had been to dark places, and by her own admission had not always come back whole. But she had come back. Every time. Because from the start, there had been someone worth staying for.

Hank recalled the story he had been told that afternoon in the courtyard, about two sisters, magic, an accident, the coronation, and a frozen heart. At the centre of everything was Princess Anna, and her presence had so brightened Elsa's darkest days that she had no choice but to hold on. For just one day more. Hank wondered how he might measure up compared to the feisty young princess, and then discarded the thought. This was no mean contest, the prize being Elsa. This was a sometimes delicate, often complicated situation that one person had been placed in by the hands of fate—and he had a chance to make it better, for no reason other than it was the right thing to do. It was the reason he had reached out that very first time, to help a young woman, concerned and afraid, unsure of herself and her place in the world despite ruling an entire kingdom.

And even if, at that moment, he had known that he was reaching out to the Queen of Arendelle, and not just any young woman, he still would not have hesitated. He only did so now; only resisted his desires because of his sense of propriety. Yet he could tell that while Elsa respected that sense of social rectitude, she did not expect him to be held back by it. She expected him to act on his desires—and, he guessed, some of hers as well. But breaking free of such ingrained behaviour was not easy, and if, in the end, he was not suitable as a consort for the Queen, what then? Unbidden, the words of his father's song floated through his mind.

It's not time to make a change,  
Just relax, take it easy.  
You're still young, that's your fault,  
There's so much you have to know.  
Find a girl, settle down,  
If you want, you can marry.  
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

Things didn't have to change right away, and likely shouldn't; not without due consideration. A night's rest would do his mind well against such a decision. But there was one small detail he could change without influencing matters too much.

"I should start sleeping within the castle proper, if you truly do wish me to be closer," he grinned at Elsa, offering a slight bow. "As to the other matters discussed—my duties as your _houscarl_ —I am not yet ready to assume those fully. However, may I enquire as to why the services of the castle servants are insufficient for this task?"

"You may." Elsa offered a gentle answer that revealed nothing. She wore a knowing smile, and while that might have annoyed him at another time, this time Hank merely found it intriguing. An issue for later, perhaps. But for now, with Elsa suddenly becoming deliberately evasive, Hank knew it was time to leave the conversation. And anyway, he had a few large items to ferry from the guard barracks to, he assumed, a guest room somewhere in the castle. "And Hank?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Thank you."

Seeing the subtle smile woven across her face, Hank found it very hard to resist the urge to kiss his queen. The way she looked so happy; content and relaxed. All because of him, and his actions. He felt worthier, all of a sudden. Maybe not enough to be a consort to royalty, but enough to at least be a friend. He could be more than that, and as he grew to know Elsa as a person more, and a regent less, he understood the situation both he and she were in. It was, upon reflection, not that unusual—with the exception that most monarchs were forced to marry someone other than who they loved in order to consolidate their power against their enemies.

And while, in the end, he knew it might not be the best decision for the realm—and maybe the council would have something to say about it—it was Elsa's decision. For the longest time all her decisions had been made for her, or forced on her in such a way that she had no real choice. But here, now, in affairs of the heart, she could choose whoever she wanted, and for some reason, she had chosen him. Over everyone else she had talked with, met, interacted with, been approached by… she had chosen him. Him. He bowed, turning to leave, and smiled. It was enough to have been chosen by another person in this world, but to have been chosen by Elsa… it was more than he ever could have hoped for.

* * *

Anna started by locking the door to her room. It wasn't something she would normally do, but she did want some privacy, because Kristoff had left her so deliciously frustrated she just had to do _something_. So, privacy, and locked doors. Because there was a time she hadn't, and a certain servant innocently arriving to change the linens had been rather scandalized by what she saw. And sworn to secrecy by a mortified young princess. So ever since that day, if she planned to do anything like that, Anna locked the door. Of course now there was the chance that Elsa might stumble upon her, and that thought was strangely thrilling, though she wasn't sure why.

But that was for later. For now, it was just her, and her thoughts—memories—of what had happened in the sauna. With Kristoff. She spent the next several minutes struggling out of her dress and cursing softly—because apparently some of these things just weren't meant to be done with one hand, and had Flynn Rider ever had to do something like this? Getting undressed with one hand, not the other thing she was going to do. Though there was that story set in Iberia and he'd done most of something with one hand tied behind his back, only that something kept changing every time he told the story, and while it was pleasurable to read such stories, she was intent on giving herself an entirely different kind of pleasure.

At least the dress was off now, and the petticoat with it. Undergarments followed closely behind, falling in a messy pile that if anyone responsible happened to see it, she would be properly scolded for her impropriety. Being the spare princess she was rather less concerned with things like that, and more with what she could do. And right now she could flop heavily against the bed, forgetting the state her back was in. Her back arched and spasmed in remembered pain, and she fought to bite back a scream. She was hurt, she lay against the covers, gasping. She had to remember she was hurt, or things like this would keep happening. Like when Hank had hit her unprotected right side. When she used to duel with the guards, when she had been somewhat younger, she would occasionally suffer a hit, and close in for the winning strike. Because sometimes winning required sacrifice.

Like winning Kristoff's touch had required sacrificing her desires for more from him; because he had been right. She wasn't ready, she hadn't been ready, and she'd had no way of seeing that. But now she could, and that meant she could know when she was truly ready, and not just pushing herself to do these reckless things to overcome her fear of them. The pain was fading from her back now, and she shifted against the cool surface of the duvet, soothing the scars in her flesh. And thinking of those scars she remembered how Kristoff had traced them, and her eyes went suddenly to her wrist, tracing the line from back to front, around the outside of her arm, past that funny little bone and under the line of her palm.

She blinked at the scar, seeing the rough, pinkish flesh in a different light. It would likely mark her for some time, as would the memory of how she had acquired it, but it no longer merely seemed to be a mark of how damaged she was. It was a mark of survival. She had fought through this terrifying ordeal, and she had the scars to prove it. She laughed softly at her own private joke. The scars she bore, they were medals. They marked the hours and days she survived while held captive and tortured by those soldiers. And if a soldier saw those scars; learned of the story behind them; she knew he would be impressed. There weren't many princesses that survived such harsh treatment. And even if it was terrifying to think about, to relive at times, she was still proud to have survived it. No one could take that from her.

She gently pressed two fingers against her lower lip, feeling the slight roughness of the scar there. It didn't hurt, in fact, it felt almost healed, just a little rough. She remembered wordlessly asking Elsa to kiss it better, and wondered if Kristoff had felt it when he kissed her. It was a little thing, a 'reward' for swearing that her sister would kill the soldiers keeping her captive, for protecting that sister while they mouthed off and insulted her. But it was fading, and soon it would be gone. The other scars would take longer to heal—they were deeper, and some might be permanent, the castle physician had explained. If she was worried, most of them could be hidden by her clothing—but she wasn't so worried; she would wear them with pride.

The next scar was the small circle above her left breast, somewhat hard to see without dropping her chin to her chest and turning her head sideways. It was the first point Kristoff had touched when he teased her, and she still remembered the way his fingers ran across her skin, tingling, rough, calloused, but with a gentle touch she was unaware he'd been capable of. She remembered the fear as well, how hard she'd had to fight to let him keep touching her, and how she'd failed. He had been okay with that, and he'd even taken the time to assure her it wasn't her fault, and he didn't desire her any less—and that he would wait, implicitly, because he'd said that she wasn't ready, which meant he was perfectly willing to wait until she was, right?

Anna blinked, she was thinking too much. Maybe she was just distracting herself, because the last time she had had any kind of pleasure like that—from her own hand, no less—she'd been terrified. And before that, at the hands of one of her captors, her body had reacted to that touch even when she hadn't wanted it. She'd hated it. But it was part of her healing, to want to share her body, with whom she chose, without being afraid. Even though she knew Kristoff would never hurt her, would never press her into doing anything she didn't want to. It wasn't fear of Elsa's reaction that would stop him either. It was that he respected Anna more, her and her body; her choices, even if they were sometimes unwise. He would support her, just like he always had.

The confidence shored up her will, and her hand lazily wound its way across her chest, idly itching at the tiny scar that annoying splinter had left between her breasts. She closed her eyes, and she was there, bound against that flagpole, wrist to shoulder, so tight she could hardly move. She was stripped naked, her ankles bound to the ground, and blood ran down her back, mixing with a cooling rain. This time she wasn't afraid. Wasn't alone. She hadn't been expecting this, but she still had a clear memory of what she was doing, lying on her bed. It was a shock, to go back, even now, but it didn't control her. She knew at once she could open her eyes and leave this place, but she did not.

Instead, she looked around, noting the blurriness of the stone walls in the distance, remembering the smell of the rain, and how she had cried when she realized it was not snow. How she had wished Elsa was there to save her—and she had, after. She looked to her other side, the shadows against the lighted window, loud talking coming from the fort, ignoring her completely. Her thoughts had gone to dark places, imagining herself battered and broken, or the same fate befalling Elsa, or Elsa accidentally harming her—killing her—in the ways she said the soldiers would die. She had thought of what the thought of losing her would do to Elsa, what it would make her do, and images of a beautiful, broken body with sightless eyes flashed through her mind, but it wasn't real. None of this was real.

She opened her eyes, and she was in her room, lying naked on her bed, obviously intending to pleasure herself because the door was locked, and she usually only locked it for one reason. She was still a little shaken, reliving that memory, and with an embarrassed laugh she remembered the last part of it—left out in the rain all night, she'd just had to go. She had been ashamed and mortified at what she was forced to do—what she had fought her body not to do. She had lost that fight, but she could look back on it now and laugh. She was pretty sure that was some kind of victory, because something like that was probably supposed to break prisoners. She didn't care, and she'd had no choice anyway. Another memory turned around.

It was strange, she reflected, that touching herself, just starting to explore her body, brought back these flashes of memory—but even stranger was how her mind was dealing with them. Sure, Elsa had had some input, helping put her back together, and so had Kristoff, but this seemed to be her own doing. The scars in her mind were healing too, because even if these memories scared her, she could look at them. She could remember them, and if she was going back, she knew now that they weren't real. She had control over them. At least enough that they did not dominate her thinking. And right now she didn't want to be thinking too much.

Her fingers traced their way around her left breast, tickling the little crease formed between her chest and the underside of that breast. Just the way Kristoff had. She remembered the feeling, his fingers were much larger than hers, his skin rougher. Hers were long and slender, gentle—though he had been too—and her skin was soft and supple, both where she was touching, and what she was touching with. It was an interesting contrast. Especially now she realized that even if she did know her own body better, Kristoff's touch had somehow felt better against her flesh.

She also remembered his joke, after saying that she had two breasts—giving him permission to touch both—he had responded that the one he was touching was more perfect, which she really couldn't see, because both of her breasts were very nice to look at, and touch. Even if she might sometimes have been a little jealous of her sister's greater endowment, her breasts suited her, and Elsa's would not. Because on her own frame, shorter and slighter than even her sister was, those breasts might have looked faintly ridiculous. Even if they might have been more fun to play with… and they might still be, even if they belonged to someone else. Anna blinked, unsure of where that thought had come from. If, by her own admission, she couldn't see her sister in that light, how was it she could see just one part of her like that? Oh, right, because she was touching that part of herself, and because she was enjoying herself her brain was even more scattered than usual. That was it.

Her fingers continued to trace that little crease, sliding up around the inside of her breast to spiral lazily around her nipple, being careful not to touch it—she was going to try and tease herself like Kristoff had, because she really had enjoyed that. Of course, if she got too tempted, she had another breast she could tease. And she had to, really, because if she didn't she would feel terribly imbalanced. So her hand slid sensually across her chest and her fingers began to tease at the flesh of her right breast. The touch didn't have to be the same, and here she was alternating the back of her knuckles and the roughness there with the softness of her fingertips, studying the contrast in feeling against her intimate flesh.

A finger accidentally brushed against her nipple, lingering on the warm, pink flesh surrounding it. That flesh was just a little firmer, as were her nipples—they were more sensitive too, to the lightest brush of her fingertips. She dearly wished Kristoff had touched her more, even if she knew it would have ended badly. But not being ready to be touched by another didn't mean she wasn't ready to be touched by herself again, and a contented grin worked its way across her face because she was. So. Very. Good. At touching herself. Even as her hand crept lower, she changed her mind. Without saying a word Kristoff had affirmed her wholeness. Her nipples were not the only part of her breasts, and so she dragged a slow, sensual spiral around them, from firm pink flesh out to the center of her chest, just above her heart.

Her breasts were not separate either, they were a part of her whole, and a lazy—and very gentle—touch traced down her right side, tenderly exploring the heavy bruising that remained there. It hurt, but only if she pressed incautiously. So instead she swept her hand down her side and over her belly, attempting to tickle herself in the same way Kristoff had. It didn't work, but she wasn't really disappointed—she knew it was almost impossible to tickle herself, but she would have to tell Kristoff that it was something she really liked. It was also something they could do innocently, with their clothes on, and she began to wonder just how ticklish her valiant and pungent reindeer king truly was. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she came up with plans to find out.

And as she thought of Kristoff, his body and his desires, her hand crept lower, encountering the soft coppery curls that surrounded her most intimate places. She had done this many times before, and her fingers crossed over slick skin, feeling a familiar wetness. Oh, yes, Kristoff's type of teasing was most definitely effective. But as her fingers slid down around her entrance, pressing into the flesh between her thighs, her mind was overwhelmed by the memory of Sten forcing himself upon her. So rough and unwanted, and she had been so helpless to do anything about it. She gasped in shock—was she not ready for this? How right had Kristoff been? Could she—should she—keep going? Would it hurt her more to be so damn frustrated, or to be so scared she was afraid she couldn't do it again? And why now, why at the moment when she had been set to give herself the most pleasure had her mind decided to try and tear itself apart?

She stopped moving her hand, but didn't take it away. Her body—her body still wanted this. Her mind was less sure. She needed a little push. Just a little one. She closed her eyes, and standing over her bound and gagged form was not Sten, but Kristoff. His eyes were aflame with desire, but he held himself back. He loosened her bonds, and placed her own hand between her legs. If you want to, the vision seemed to say. That was all it came down to. No pressures from her body, from society, from the world. This was all about her desire, and if it scared her, she was allowed to stop.

But her body was so damnably frustrated, so tense, the build up had been amazing, and she didn't want to lose that. So her fingers began to move, exploring, teasing herself. She kept her eyes shut, trying to imagine it was Kristoff, and that he was, if not forcing her, then at least encouraging her to do this. It was scary. It was terrifying, and she was afraid she would come to associate pleasuring herself with such negative emotions she might never be able to do it again. She could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks, flowing faster as her climax came and went. But the tears continued. She felt dirty. Ashamed. As if somehow this act and those memories had sullied her.

She rolled over, crying into her pillows. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be better. Happier. To be able to do things like that without it trying to destroy her mind. She didn't know how long she lay there, sobbing into her pillows, occasionally tasting her salty tears, hair a mess, straggling around her face. The tears stopped, but her eyes were red and raw, she knew without needing a mirror. There was a quiet knock at her door, followed by a soft, worried voice.

"Anna," it was her sister, and she wasn't sure she was ready to face anyone yet. "Anna, are you okay?"

She couldn't lie. She had promised Elsa—and Elsa had promised her—that they would be honest, even if it hurt. And it hurt. "No…"

"Can I come in?"

"Okay."

The doorknob rattled, and she belatedly realized she'd left it locked. Elsa's confused question from outside showed she had discovered that as well.

"Elsa, I—umm…" and Anna closed her eyes, trying to find the right words, but they just wouldn't come. All she could do was stagger off the bed, turn the lock, and land heavily back on the bed—making sure to land on her less injured left side. At least she was facing the door.

"Anna, you're…"

"Naked?" The red haired princess smiled through fresh tears, amazed she could still be so lightly humorous.

"Well, yes. But you've also bee—do you ever hang anything up?" Anna laughed at the scandalized look on her sisters face at seeing the pile of discarded clothing. Strange that that would shock Elsa more than seeing her naked and crying on her bed—until she realized Elsa was only being mock-serious about the clothes. Anna was shaking her head. "And why did you lock your door; I thought that was my thing all these years."

"I… I didn't anyone walking in on me. Again."

"Walking in on—wait, again?!" Anna just had to laugh at the way her sister's eyebrows rose in surprise and her cheeks flushed in sudden, embarrassed understanding. "So you just—is that why—I'm confused."

"You're not the only one," the young princess admitted, wiping away some of her tears. "I thought if I—if maybe it was Kristoff—if I could… but it didn't work, Elsa. Why didn't it work? Why am I so afraid of it?"

"Of touching yourself?" It was clear her sister couldn't bring herself to be more specific than that, and Anna enjoyed watching her sister's blush turn almost incandescent against her pale skin.

"Of being touched at all. I—I let Kristoff touch me. I told you almost forced him but… but I had to force myself to let him touch me. I was afraid. So afraid, and I don't like being afraid, Elsa. I just want to be not scared. So I can share my body—in… in the future—with whoever I choose. Because I want it to be my choice, and I want to be happy, y'know, _that_ kind of happy."

"This is… this a lot to take in, Anna, and some of it I really didn't need to know. Okay, maybe I didn't _want_ to know it, but I do now. Are–are you okay?"

"N-no. I'm not. But I just don't know what to do. Joan was never like this. Flynn Rider never suffered like this—even you haven't had to… sorry, but. Sorry. I just… all my heroes, they can't help me, Elsa."

"I can be here for you," Elsa spoke softly, wheeling herself forwards until she was next to Anna's bed. "Is that enough?"

Anna reached out, taking her sister's proffered hand. It was warm. She smiled, nodding slowly, happy that Elsa could understand, in part at least, what was on her mind. She closed her eyes, still smiling. It was enough, for now. In moments, she was asleep, deep and dreamless, and Elsa turned to leave as she began to snore. She whispered something, a quiet assurance to the sleeping princess, as she gently closed the door to her room.

"You'll be okay."


	59. Reaching Out

**Trigger Warning: Depression & Suicidal Thoughts**

* * *

The bath was starting to get cold, but Elsa didn't notice. She had washed and rinsed her hair a second time, and was now idly fingering the crucifix Bishop Gudbrand had given her. She was worried, about consequences, both of how they would affect her, and how they would affect those around her. Anna, for instance, and her new fears. She had always seemed so open and forward about intimate affairs, but now she was scared half to death—all because of those men at the fort. Elsa wanted to help, but she didn't know how, and she knew her own, less than sisterly desires would not help matters. In fact, if Anna let her do that, it might scar the both of them worse than any of the marks on her flesh. What she really wanted was for Anna to be happy, but she didn't know a lot about making people happy. Not really.

She knew about devotion, and sacrifice, and the greater good—and how to sacrifice her own happiness for it—but she didn't really know how to keep others happy. She had already given her sister a full day, without any royal duties intruding, and it had been amazing. Anna had, without much effort, turned the day around to focus not on herself, but on the two of them, as sisters, and as friends. They truly were better together, but Elsa still wasn't sure for which values of together that that applied. She closed her eyes, trying to focus less on her problems, and more on relaxing.

She blinked rapidly when she opened her eyes again, not comprehending what she saw. Spiralling down her calves and around her feet in complex fractals were tiny plates of ice, flowers of frost dissolving in the lukewarm water. She couldn't feel anything, her magic could not still run through her legs, not like it had when she'd made the floors of her ice palace. There was no way to channel her powers. Was there?

Snow flurried across her palm, constrained only to her hand and the few inches above it. It was only when she heard the quiet gasp that she remembered she was not alone. Gerda, helping her bathe. Like all royal servants she was very good at being unobtrusive. So much so Elsa often forgot her presence, unlike Kai, who had a quiet dignity that could simply be felt, no matter where he was. She knew that Gerda was closer to Anna, and she was tempted—just a little—to ask what Gerda knew that she did not where it came to Anna's history and healing. It would have been rude to ask, and inappropriate, even if she did have a right to know, as queen. Besides, she and Anna were now talking, openly, candidly, and without rancour. There was no need to ask a servant if she could just drum up the courage to ask Anna herself.

There were other things she wanted to ask, things she had already asked, and others she wanted more complete answers to. Not every scar left its mark on a person's flesh, and Elsa felt the truth of that every day. Whenever she saw Anna, this new, nearly broken young woman, such a contrast to the fiery courage and optimism she used to have, every time she saw her sister so, it broke her heart. It had been her choice to let Anna go, and to let Kristoff go with her. She'd insisted they take Ragnar, the most skillful and respected of the palace guards, and that still had not been enough to protect them.

The snow falling against her palm turned to ice, creeping down her wrist, and the sight of it forced her to consider what it would feel like to freeze to death. It was morbid, she knew, but she was curious about it all the same. She had caused it to happen, twice. Once… once it had been slow, accidental, and surely far more terrifying as a slow death. The second time… all her hate, all her rage, all her desire to protect Anna; all of it had influenced her actions. Not just ice, but cursed ice. It had left no marks on that man's flesh, it hadn't even ruffled his clothing. But he was dead all the same, that expression of realization and pure terror etched forever on his face like a marble statue. She shivered, not knowing if it would be worse to know what it felt like, or worse not to—because she had done the same thing both someone she loved, and someone she hated.

It was a wound, a scar against her soul, and she would bear it forever. She could understand killing the soldier before he was going to… to touch Anna, but she could have just disabled him. She could have frozen him in a block of ice and let the fusiliers deal with him. She could have erected a wall between him and Anna. But she had done none of those things—instead, she'd used her powers to kill. She looked at her hands, ice thawing from her right, realization dawning on her. She had killed someone, with her own hands. By her own hand. She had ordered the death of the guards in the towers at the start of the battle, and that had been difficult. The fusiliers with her had killed Anna's captors to a man—death by proxy, for which she was also responsible. But none of that compared to the fact that she was now a killer.

It was not murder, murder was done in cold blood. It was not justice, because she had no account of that man's past. It was in the heat of the moment, when instead of the calm she normally felt while angered, she had been suffused with an incandescent rage. She would not lie, she would not say that she had not been herself—because she had always had the capacity for anger as much as fear or sadness. She just had not felt it anywhere near as often. Dark thoughts had been her friends, her constant companions for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like to be cared about, to care for someone that cared for her. And recently those thoughts had been less prevalent—she'd had the courage to discuss them, and even her plans about ending her own life, with the only person that truly mattered.

She wanted to draw her knees up to her chest, wrap her arms around them and disappear into herself, forget the world around her, and just be sad. It was easier than being happy. But Anna wouldn't let her do that, she knew—and even if Anna would let her, her legs weren't likely to cooperate in the matter. She smiled, a sad little smile, realizing she was looking at her injury with humour, not distaste or hatred. Her sister would say it meant she was healing. She just wanted someone to talk to, to tell her it was okay to be sad; sad for her sister. She knew where such thoughts normally took her, but she promised herself she wouldn't let it get that far this time. If… if she felt like that, she would go wake Anna. Or not, because all she really needed was to be in the redhead's presence, and things would be better.

Idly swirling the water with her hands, she wished she felt that way about Hank—because he was a good person, and he deserved better than she'd given him of late. He had agreed to stay in the castle at least, and that was real progress. But her castle held other guests now as well; a prince, from the Southern Isles; and a count, from Weaseltown. They were something she could easily put off until morning. Still something she would need help with, but she would deal with that when the time came. Right now sadness had settled across her shoulders like a heavy cloak, and while part of it she knew was for what Anna was going through, part of it she couldn't find a reason for—she was just… sad.

She sniffed, shoulders hunched, surprised at the tiny ripple that seemed to come from beneath her chin. Another one followed it, and she sniffled again. It was then she heard Gerda speak up, voice laden with concern.

"Your majesty, are you alright?"

She wanted to lie, to spare her servant's feelings, to stop people worrying about her. She didn't want to be trouble, she just wanted to help where she could, and be left alone wher—she cut the thought off. She would not go on concealing everything—but she didn't have to tell the whole truth, either, just enough that people could understand what she needed and how she felt.

"I–I'm just sad, Gerda," the truth. It drew no shocked gasps, no reproach, no meaningless words of comfort. "I talked with Anna. I want to help, but I don't know _how_."

"Princess Anna is talking again?" Gerda's face lit up with a beaming smile. Elsa let out a little laugh—so apparently the head maid did not know _everything_ that went on in the castle. Oh, she always claimed to, but Elsa had had her doubts. Still best not to let Anna know, because when— _when_ , not if—she recovered, if she knew what could remain undiscovered, there would trouble the likes of which had never been seen.

"A little, and not with many people about," Elsa confirmed. "But she seems to have found her voice. I missed it."

"We all did, your majesty," and Gerda laid a hand on Elsa's shoulder as the queen's tears continued to fall. "Come now, let's get you dried off and changed into something more fitting."

Elsa didn't protest, she didn't fight anything, but she found it hard to bring herself to help. She had been like this in the past, and she had thought she was getting better—and maybe she was, because this was the first time it had happened in quite a while. Maybe this was what it took to start healing scars that lay on the inside. But thirteen years like this had not healed that first, devastating scar. Nothing had, and she still bore the guilt of that night, innocently playing in the ballroom, treating her magic like a toy, not respecting it, or its power. Forgetting, even for a moment, how fearless and boisterous Anna was. Even if Anna had forgiven her; even if the town—the world, perhaps—had forgiven her, she still could not forgive herself. She could accept what she had done, she could take responsibility for it, and yet, after… everything… it still left an indelible mark on her soul. Bishop Gudbrand had said that there was no act that was unforgivable, if the sinner showed true repentance and contrition—and Elsa knew she showed those traits. She showed them every day, trying to make life better for her sister, her people… but not for herself. Because she did not deserve an easy life, despite what she was told.

Why won't you leave me alone? She cursed at her thoughts, not wanting to go back to those dark places, but feeling as if she was being dragged down into them anyway. She had to reach out, she had to find help—but she had such a hard time trusting people that there was only one person she was able to reach out to. She closed her eyes, tears still slowly rolling down her cheeks. She wanted not to be sad just like Anna wanted not to be afraid. She knew the answer to her own problem—but she didn't want to bother her sister. Anna needed her rest, and that meant Elsa had no idea where to turn. She couldn't talk to just anyone. Kristoff would listen, but he might not have the best advice, despite his track record. Hank would understand, but he might be more than a little put off by her vulnerability. Olaf would try to help—and she hiccoughed a tiny little laugh, because she would be seeking advice from her talking snowman, and the absurdity of that given the gravity of what she felt was simply beyond measure. She could have talked to Gerda, too, but the head maid had never been her confidante.

Kai… she could talk to Kai. It might not be the best talk, but Kai could be there, as he always had been whenever he was needed. Somehow, he just understood. He never judged, tried his best not to criticize unless her actions had become suspect or jeopardized someone else. He was supportive, and he valued her as a person, not just as his liege. He was, she realized, something of a surrogate father to her. Her own father could not be replaced, but she had let her grief go so she could find solace and support in having known him, as best she was able, for as long as she had. She felt something pressing against her collarbone, sliding up towards her neck, and in a moment of panic she recalled that horrifying dream where Anna was forced to watch her—but no, it was only Gerda, tucking her into bed.

She wasn't aware of how she'd moved from the bathroom to the bedroom, or how she'd been dressed, or even transferred to the bed. She'd felt nothing, wrapped up in her own mind, world slowly crumbling away around her. But she had to reach out to someone standing on the edge of that cliff before it fell, taking her with it.

"Gerda, can you fetch Kai for me, please?"

Elsa didn't wait for an answer, she just closed her eyes, trying to bring back happy memories—they were there, but there was a barrier stopping her from reaching them. The best she could do was remember Anna's smile and laugh at the little jokes they sometimes shared. It wasn't much, it wasn't enough, but it gave her something to hold on to while she was alone, the soft light of the gaslamp flickering throughout the room. It would have been so easy, she realized, to simply… leave. Leave the world, and everything in it. If she'd really wanted to, if she'd thought about it, she could have used her magic to do it. A monster, killed by her own monstrous powers. It would have been a fitting end. Except… every time; every time, a single thread held her back. Anna. Because she didn't want to hurt Anna, and the one time she nearly had taken that final step, she would have forced Anna to _watch_. To see her falling to her doom.

"Your majesty?" the voice was soft, respectful, possibly testing if she had fallen asleep or might be dozing off.

"Kai?" she sniffed softly, not really meaning it as a question, but not knowing what else to say. "Will you turn out the lamps, please?"

"Of course, momentarily." And within moments both gaslamps beside the bed had been turned down and extinguished. The only light was the moon coming through the window, but even that seemed to be darkening. Somehow that made it easier to talk. If she didn't have to see his face, if he couldn't see hers, it wouldn't matter how much she cried. She could talk, she could trust him, and she had to reach out. She had to. She had promised Anna that she would be a better sister, and that meant taking care of herself too.

"I'm–I'm sad, Kai. All this… this pain, this darkness… everything hurting Anna. No matter what _I_ do, _she_ gets hurt." That was the truth. That was what she was so afraid of and so sad about. No matter how hard she tried to be a better person, she screwed up—but she was never the one to bear the consequences. Anna was, every time. It hurt so much, and… "If I… Kai, if I left… if I hurt her so badly by leaving my"—she coughed hard, trying to work up the courage to say what she had been thinking—"leaving my life behind; would she stop hurting? Would I stop hurting her if I was… if I was… dead?"

"Queen Elsa!" It wasn't a rebuke, but her head servant was clearly horrified by what he'd just heard. "This is hard to take in just now, but… I think understand. This is"—and Elsa could hear him taking a deep breath before pushing on, steeling himself for what he had to say—"this about that night, thirteen years ago, and the events of the Great Freeze, isn't it? You think that if you weren't here, it would never have happened."

Elsa nodded in the darkness, forgetting Kai couldn't see her. He continued anyway.

"On one count, you may be correct, but in every other way you are wrong, your majesty. Anna would not be who she is today without you." That was the problem, Elsa knew, she had made Anna into who she was, and all of this was her fault. If Anna had been an only child, or if she could have gone through with her plans some three and a half years ago, then her sister would never have died. The world would be a better place. "I mean that in the best possible light, your majesty. Your sister is stronger than you know, and it's because of you she has such strength and courage."

"But… she's so afraid." Elsa protested, not fully understanding what her confidante was trying to say.

"Elsa, my dear, courage is not the absence of fear; it is the ability to act _in spite of it_. You have just as much courage as princess Anna; and while you may not believe it of yourself, I do. I know, three years ago, what it took to drive you up that tower. How afraid you must have been in that moment, and how long it was taking you to summon the courage to take that last step. It takes courage to love anyone, but to willingly sacrifice your life for them, takes more than anyone knows. That is why they often call it the 'ultimate sacrifice'. But there is an even higher order of courage, one not allowed to common folk and mere mortals. It is the courage of legend, and of great heroes—but it is not what you think. It is not the courage of great battles, of facing and triumphing against dire foes when all else seems lost. It is a quiet courage, that few are able to see, and even fewer are able give of themselves.

"It is a courage of such sacrifice that it does not even appear in the scriptures. Because this courage requires you not just to accept what has happened, and be willing to give your life for the one you love, but to give your life _to_ the one you love. It is a higher, greater courage, because it does not require death. Instead, it requires you to live. Not just for yourself, but for the one you care so deeply about. I have seen how much you care for your sister. For all your life you have cared so strongly for her you have been willing to leave this world to make her life better. But you didn't leave—you never could—because you care about her more than you know, and you would give anything to see her happy. Even if that meant you would have to walk away, you would do it. Even if you had to give up Arendelle, you would do it. And hardest of all, even if it meant you had simply to live, you would do it.

"Courage and devotion like that has no words to describe it; it simply is. Seeing it sometimes brings me to tears, because it was how your father saw you. You have so much of him inside of you and you don't even realize it, Elsa; he would be so very proud of you. So proud; and sad to see what the world has done to you and you sister. I know, as much as we might wish, we cannot just make everything better—the world does not work that way. But we are here to help."

Elsa closed her eyes, wishing more and more she could see the truth behind Kai's words. Because if that was how he saw her, how could she be such a terrible person? He was right, too. Every word of it. She didn't know what courage was, but he had just described her actions to a 'T', so if that was courage, then she must be courageous. So then why was it so much harder to ask for help than to give it? She wiped her tears away and took a deep, ragged breath before she even tried to speak.

"Kai…" she couldn't make the words come. She knew what to say, she just couldn't say it. Was this, she wondered, how Anna had felt? She felt a reassuring hand against her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze through the covers.

"I know," she could just imagine his gentle smile, the one that always put her at ease. "It's perfectly fine to not be okay sometimes. I… honestly I was expecting this might happen sooner—but you are so strong without even realizing. Sometimes that's the problem; when you're so strong, no one stops to ask if you're okay. I will ask this only once, because I respect your strength and honesty, which shows through all your dealings.

"Elsa?"

"Yes, Kai?"

"Are you okay?"

"No…" she couldn't lie. Not to him. He'd set it up far too well, and she knew he would know. It wasn't just about being honest with others, her tired mind was beginning to understand—she had to be honest with _herself_. Because now, maybe, she might be able to ask the right questions. Not about why she couldn't yet forgive herself, but more about why she wouldn't let herself be forgiven. But asking the right question still didn't mean she had any answers—only that she knew what to ask. But there was something else, riding at the back of her mind. She knew now what her magic could do, and she wasn't sure she could trust herself.

She could have asked Kai to stay, she knew, but there was a better option, and if lieutenant Erikson just happened to be needled by it… she smiled, then frowned. Why would it take someone else's discomfort to make her happy? Or maybe he was afraid too—even though he had admitted his feelings for her earlier that night. She wasn't sure if she wanted him just to watch over her, to protect her from herself; or if she wanted him close just so she had someone to be with. In the same room, he didn't have to share the bed, and she smiled again, marveling at just how awkward that would actually be. For him, at least. Her mind was made up—she might not be able to share the burden of this darkness with her _houscarl_ quite yet, but he could help her through it, without even knowing.

"Kai?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Please find lieutenant Erikson. I would like him to watch over me while I sleep, I… I don't trust myself."

"At once, your majesty."

"And Kai, before you leave, can you please turn on a lamp."

"Of course," and suiting action to words, the portly servant and her longest serving confidante turned the gaslamp on low, providing a dim, flickering light throughout the room.

He closed the door softly as he left, and she let out a breath. The dim light was comforting, and she spoke into the night as a timid young woman, where no one could hear her fear, or know that the truth of her words did not lie in the inky blackness outside her windows.

"I don't like the dark."


	60. Breaking the Wall

Søren groaned in discomfort as he rolled over, brushing strands of wavy copper hair from his face. That he hadn't slept well was an understatement. Konrad's words had played on his mind as he slept, and he knew he should have been there to support his son—on an emotional level at least, because he disagreed strongly with his actions and motives. He understood them, it was just… it was more than unfortunate that Konrad's faith and protective instincts had been turned to such a dark path by a few carefully constructed lies. There was no way out of this situation that didn't lead to ruin or devastation. It was a hard thing to accept—and he hadn't fully accepted yet, if he ever could. But his son's words the previous day gave him a precious inkling of real hope.

Konrad had realized his life was forfeit, and what he wanted now was to be remembered. For the good he had done, not his recent actions. Søren couldn't deny that wish because it was all too reasonable. It had also left him with hope he might someday be better himself. There was, he considered, an easy way to ensure his son was remembered. One that wouldn't constantly remind people of his transgressions either. The workshop—his own personal workshop—as yet had no name. He'd never needed one, working only on his own projects, or special commissions from the various guilds, keeping his skills sharp.

He could be better too, he would try to make other people's lives better. He wasn't sure how, but he did know he was an able blacksmith, and had repaired a great many things in the past. People; relationships; those were not so easy to mend. But iron, copper, brass, bronze, lead—all metals could be worked, wrought, forged, beaten, shaped, chased. He could repair the broken things in people's lives in an attempt to make them better. All he needed was space to work—space he already had in his workshop. He had only to open the doors the common folk of Arendelle, and surely, then, he would start making a difference.

The last thing he needed for this venture was a name, something that served as a reminder of the past, and as a hopeful beacon into future. Sørenson… Smiths? No, too simple. Repairs? Maybe—but it implied only the fixing of what was broken, not the creation of entirely new pieces. Engineering? Another maybe—but that for some reason put him in mind of shipwrights and boilermakers. Maybe something to do with machinery? Something close to that. Machinery… Mechanisms… Mechanical. That was it, things that worked, could be built, could be linked together.

Sørenson Mechanical.

And with that, with the implication on machinery and mechanisms, he knew what his first project would be. Something to serve as an apology of sorts to Elsa, and also as something that would make her life better. Then she might not hate him so much anymore. But it wasn't hatred in her heart, he could think that only if he wanted to delude himself. He didn't want to know how much making the decision to take away his son had hurt her. He didn't want to know because knowing that made it so very much harder to hate her. He wanted to hate her, for being vengeful, being just in her dealings, with those born both high and low, who had lived lives both foul and fair. He couldn't. He respected her, and at one point, perhaps, he had thought he might even love her, despite their vast difference in ages.

That was over now, with a bluejacket serving as her bodyguard and possibly some kind of servant. Maybe that was just as well though, because if he had still been focussed on Elsa, he would have missed how Vanja had been acting around him lately. She seemed to like him—which was a lot given how conservatively she usually played affairs of the heart. He had to admit to at least some of the sentiment being mutual. But she also had a tendency to hold herself back, and from the rumours he'd heard, he didn't blame her. He still watched out for her, where and when he could. He would protect her. Somehow.

She was a huntress, outside her task as council advisor. She wore armour—which was why when Larsson had attempted to stab her, she hadn't been hurt. Leather armour, light, supple, easy to move in. He couldn't work leather nearly as well as he could work metal, and he doubted she would have appreciated metal armour. Sure, it would have had excellent protective properties, but plates and cuirasses were heavy, restrictive, and oftentimes uncomfortable unless fitted properly. That would be hard to do while keeping the project secret from her. Then again, it didn't have to be armour; nor jewellery, which he knew she was unlikely to appreciate. Vanja was a practical woman, so it would have to be a practical gift—practical, simple, and something she was likely to carry at all times, such that it might remind her of who made it; who cared so much for her.

A dagger. No. A knife. A hunting knife. Steel bladed, solid tang, ivory… or bone handle. Did she have any bones suitable? Could he get ahold of them without revealing his intent? And beyond that, could he still manage such fine scrollwork? He ran his fingers through his hair, tying it in a loose tail. He still had some skill, and he could always practice on stone first. The blade also had to be unique. Something not often seen, in the same way as her—previously Larsson's—switchblade was unique. Blued… he could blue the steel of the blade, protect it from corrosion and make it more durable at the same time. A harder steel than normal for the base, then, and a longer process to finish the piece, but if she accepted the gift, it would all be worthwhile.

Søren grabbed a sheet of layout paper, a pencil, and began sketching his knife design. Single edged, drop point, perhaps with a little scrollwork on the blade itself. A full width tang, such that the bone could be shaped down to it and fastened through it. And not simply carved bone, but shaped as finely as possible to suit only Vanja's hands—a more difficult task, but not too hard to disguise, because if she liked him, and he liked her, they would hold hands sometimes, would they not? He smiled, it seemed fitting, and then one day he would pass her the knife and her hands would reach for his.

On the handle he would carve a valkyrie, in her likeness. With this blade she could choose what it was she would slay. On the blade, on each side, would be mirrored images of Fenrir. With this blade she could strike with great ferocity and strength, and nothing would be a danger to her. That was what the images meant, and perhaps they might invoke the power of the gods, but Søren knew that was unlikely. The blade would simply be a useful artefact, the images making it a work of art as well as a practical tool. That was all.

* * *

Anna rolled over with a noisy snore, fiery hair falling across her face making her sneeze. She spent several frantic seconds getting caught up in the covers and trying to break free. She wasn't trapped, it was only her bed… but she remembered falling asleep on her bed, naked, after talking to Elsa… after… and now she was _in_ her bed. So clearly someone had moved her, carefully, and with much care, and tucked her into her bed. It wasn't a stretch to imagine Elsa coming back and doing that, but the question was how she would have managed it physically—it had to be so hard to be confined to that chair. So not Elsa then… which left only Gerda. Oh no. Not again. But she doesn't know I… right? Anna's thoughts had a wonderful tendency to smash into and derail each other when she thought about what the head maid would do if she found out.

Taking a deep breath, Anna sat slowly upright, running her hand through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. It would take time, and a proper brush to fix that mess. She decided she could ask Elsa to help. It was kind of late in the morning, so Elsa would have to be up, in her office, or the throne room, or having morning tea or something, but really actually working at keeping Arendelle working. Always working. And she worked so hard she never thought about taking time for herself. Time for her sister, sure, but for herself? Anna frowned. Elsa really did deserve better, and she refused to see it. But the feisty red haired princess didn't know how to approach her sister about it, not when she was still recovering from her own ordeal at the hands of those men in the fort. She frowned again, cocking her head, because though she knew it was a fort they had kept her in, she had no idea where it was.

That led her to wonder that even if she had escaped, would she have been able to find her way home? Probably not, she concluded. I can't read maps or really use a compass—hey, I can get Kristoff to help. Of course that means he was right… but is that such a bad thing? She smiled softly, amused at herself for thinking that her boyfriend being right at something was a bad thing. Even if it did mean she had to admit to being wrong, and uneducated in certain areas. But when her entire childhood had been confined to the castle and the occasional escape attempt through Arendelle, she hadn't needed a map or a compass. She knew the passages and streets, doors and windows, alleys and alcoves all well enough to navigate by—or hide in.

Sitting a little straighter Anna threw the covers back and stood, walking to her mirror, failing to stifle a large yawn. The bruise that covered her right side was starting to fade now, just a little less noticeable than it was the previous night. It was still quite tender when she experimentally pressed her hand against it. The welts and cuts from the whip across her back were also healing, and healing well. There would be scars, she knew—it was unavoidable, as some of those slashes had been deep. That was why it had hurt so much. But it still hadn't broken her, and she was slowly picking up the pieces that had come loose. She could talk to people now; at least she could in small settings, and that was progress, even if she did know and trust everyone she was able to speak with. Confidence would come with time.

She didn't recoil from most friendly gestures or accidental brushes of contact anymore. That had been harder, because her body had been responding in a way her mind didn't want it to. That very first night back, in the bath… she shivered despite the warmth of her room. Elsa had reached out innocently, only trying to help, a simple, friendly gesture. They had talked about ways to help and heal Anna, but they had yet to talk properly about what this ordeal had been doing to Elsa. They also hadn't talked about how she had saved her, and why she was the first one through the door to the dungeon, followed only some time later by Kristoff.

They hadn't talked about how Elsa had killed a man—with cursed ice—in order to save her sister. Cursed ice; the very same that killed her sister. Anna knew that was something they had to talk about. It wasn't something she was going to let either of them avoid. Nor would she avoid the topic of finally _understanding_ how Elsa felt when trying to protect her and ultimately failing to do so. That nightmare had been horrifically vivid—and was yet another talking point, caused, as it was, by being forced to kill a man to save herself. Whole lot of good that it had done her. Then… then there was the fact that she might very well have killed Mikkel too, in white hot anger and desperation to try and escape. No matter what, it meant she had killed two people. Real, actual people, with lives, and families, and hopes and dreams and…

"Is this what you were so afraid of, Elsa?" the royal princess asked of the empty air. "Before the thaw; _everyone_ you met… gods… I…" words failed her. She had her voice, but she couldn't properly articulate exactly what it was she felt at that moment. To finally understand with a blinding flash of insight. Thirteen years. _Years_. Elsa had struggled with that fear for more than half of her life, and she had done so alone. Anna had been there—had tried to be—and she knew that that had helped. But even after everything becoming common knowledge, she knew Elsa was still afraid of what her powers could do. There wasn't just fear, though. Not for Anna. Because some of things Elsa could do were utterly awesome—awe inspiring over and above what anyone could even imagine could be done with ice and snow.

Her ice palace, for example. It had been staggeringly beautiful—almost enough to make Kristoff cry—and Anna so badly wanted to go back there, as much for herself as for her sister's sake. It would be difficult to climb the stairs, of course, but getting there… they could use Kristoff's sled. Which you destroyed. Again. She chided herself, laughing, wondering if perhaps she was cursed when it came to riding in sleds. But that really didn't make much sense, so she waved the thought away. In its place, however, came other things she was beginning to associate strongly with Kristoff, like the smell of reindeer, blonde hair, muscles, warmth, understanding, safety, and many others besides. Quite a few of which she knew shouldn't be mentioned in polite company—or in front of her sister, entertaining as that thought was.

Smiling and blushing slightly, Anna set about finding her clothes, which were no longer on the floor. Or in her room at all, apparently. She figured Gerda must have taken them away to clean them. Well, she had a full wardrobe to work with, though getting dressed with only one hand was still quite a challenge. It took longer, and required creative thinking, but it was entirely possible. Feeling a little more conservative after the events of the previous night, she was wearing a traditional _bunad_ of grass green over a cream undershirt that had shorter than usual sleeves. She liked the freedom it gave her, and the crimson and gold rosemaling played nicely against her skin.

Her hair, however, was still a mess. It was entirely possible Elsa would be willing to help her brush it, and as that happened they could talk—about anything, really. It would be nice just to talk. So, with that in mind, Anna grabbed her brush and headed out to the main hall on the third floor. If she was lucky, Elsa might be quickly visiting her room for something, or to take a break from the pressures of ruling—not that she seemed to take breaks very often at all. She was still pondering her sister's overly conscientious habits when she walked past an open door. It was so strange she almost didn't recognize it for what it was.

Elsa's door.

And it was _open_. Not that it wouldn't be opened for her, but it was wide open, not even attempting to hold the world back. Even so, it seemed somehow ominous, especially given that she could see the faint glistening of frost on the walls within. This was not what she had been expecting and it gave her pause enough that she stopped outside the door, looking carefully within. Elsa was propped up on her bed, breathing deeply, eyes closed with tear tracks down her cheeks. The frost wasn't receding, but it wasn't expanding either. Outside the window Anna could just make out a slight haze of slowly falling snow. Not much, but just to see it meant that it was bad. She rapped lightly against the wall, not wanting to startle or disturb her sister.

"Anna?" the voice that greeted her was a quiet, timid thing, disbelieving of the name it was speaking. Everything changed in an instant, and suddenly Elsa was wearing her queenly mask—it was so abrupt Anna almost took a step back to try and get some perspective. "Kai is handling my paperwork. Lieutenant Erikson is taking the appointments I could not postpone or cancel. Marshal Gerhardt is interrogating the prisoners." The mask cracked just as suddenly as it had appeared, and the frost crept several inches higher around the walls. This was the Elsa she knew—and loved—but it still hurt so much seeing her in this kind of pain. She wasn't sure what she could do to help, but a hug seemed like a good idea.

"Elsa?" Anna turned to her sister, noting how hard she was fighting to keep her breathing even, how with each breath the frost on the walls receded, then as she exhaled it returned. Not static, but in a constant battle. "Can I help?"

Frost and snow crept across the floor, but Elsa didn't say a word. Her reply was meant to be obvious, showing that it wasn't safe to be near her right now, but Anna didn't care. This was her sister, and she was hurting. She wouldn't rest while there was something she could do about it. She took a step closer and the frost spread out further. The snow outside changed from a light dusting to a steady fall. She took another step, and the frost began to build up in fine layers, forming a low wall around the bed. Another step. Now she was only three large strides from the bed. The wall hardened into ice, growing rapidly until it reached the height of her chest. She placed a hand against it and leaned into it, trying to drive the wall over. Elsa was not allowed to shut her out again. They'd promised.

Spikes of ice began to grow out from the wall, pressing painfully into her palm, but she didn't let up. She was going to get through to Elsa, or die trying. No matter how much it hurt. She could feel the ice growing pointed, and how it was beginning to puncture her skin, but she didn't draw back. She bit down on a pained gasp as something pierced her flesh, but she angled her body between the spikes, trying to find some leverage to force the wall down. She would do it, somehow, no matter how much pain she had to suffer through; pain that seemed as nothing compared to the torment inside her sister. She just couldn't let Elsa know she was hurting her. Bravado. All bluster, but it had to work.

"I won't let you hurt me. I won't let you shut me out again." Then she started climbing, using the slowly growing spikes as footholds on the slippery ice, clambering on top of the wall then slipping down the inside where it was remarkably cold. She slipped and hit the floor with a heavy thud, and a sharp pain flared against her chest. "Ow." And then she was silent, rolling over to look at the hairbrush that had betrayed her so. Her breathing became shallow as the temperature in the room dropped sharply and a fractal pattern of pure ice spread across the floor.

"Anna!"

The frantic scream came from the bed at the same time the magic stopped. Snow hung motionless outside the window, and the ice began to splinter. A frantic scrambling sounded atop the bed, and Anna held her brush up like a flag of surrender, waving it where Elsa could hopefully see it. There was a gasp, and the sound of the bedsprings creaking slightly as Elsa crawled closer to the edge.

"No… Anna… I hurt you," Anna could hear the torment in that voice, and it cut her deeper than any knife. "Your hand… you're bleeding. Please… please go. I'll only hurt you again."

But Anna didn't move away, she moved forward, towards her sister. "You helped me."

"But I—"

"No. Look I… I wanted to brush hair—you to brush my hair. I… I thought you might like to… Anyway, that's not important— _you_ are."

"Me?" Elsa seemed surprised. It hurt Anna to hear that, to be forcibly reminded of how little her sister thought of herself. It was more than a little aggravating to her mind, especially given how much progress she thought they'd made—but she had to remember that a few weeks could not solve thirteen years of pain and darkness. Healing the mind took a lot longer than merely healing the body. Like how she still often reacted without thinking—not remembering her right arm was missing, and falling or getting hurt because of that. But it would have been even harder if there hadn't been someone there to care for her. Someone that cared for her, but didn't care for themselves. She just had to make Elsa see that.

"You're the most important person in my life… you're the only family I have left, Elsa. I can't lose you. Not to people trying to hurt you—and especially not to you hurting yourself. And not… not to this darkness inside you either."

"Anna, please… go. I can only hurt you."

"No. I won't let you hurt me," Anna held up her hand, spots of blood beading down from her palm around her wrist. She had to make the distinction for Elsa that suffering pain did not always mean being hurt. She also had to make her see that this minor injury was her choice, because she was stubborn and loving, not because her sister was dangerous. She wouldn't lie though, because her hand did kind of sting. A lot. "I—It's only pain, Elsa. It hurts my body, not… not me, okay? Ow"—she winced, sucking in a breath—"and it stings. Sweet Freyja does it sting right now."

"I hurt you. I'm not safe, I'm—"

"Oh shut up you stinker. You didn't hurt me. I hurt myself. This is _not_ your fault. I love you, and I'm stubborn, so I won't let you keep hurting—even if that does hurt me sometimes. Elsa… I would do anything for you. Just to make you happy—don't you get it?"

"If I…?" Elsa started to ask, sniffling. "If I asked you to leave?"

It stung Anna like a blow, but she knew where it was coming from. Elsa's instincts to protect her were so very strong she would willingly separate them to protect her sister from herself. That didn't mean the hurt was any less, but it helped a lot to understand the why.

"I… I would go, Elsa, but it would hurt me. Do you want that?" It wasn't playing fair, but it only gave Elsa bad options, and Anna wanted to see what her sister would choose—togetherness, but immediate danger; or separation, with drawn out hurtfulness. Anna cursed herself for asking that, but it was too late to take it back now. It had been an honest question.

"…Anna." Elsa whispered into the chill morning air, burying her face in her hands, hiding her tears. Anna looked away, almost missing her sister's next few words. "I don't deserve you."

"You're so wrong," Anna spoke softly, noticing that the ice on the floor was slowly beginning to thaw and that the frost covering the walls was receding. Progress, but she still needed to break through one last barrier—all to make Elsa feel better; feel loved. A quiet question. "Elsa?"

"W-what?"

"Would you like me to sit with you?" Not asking if she could, or if it was wise to, but asking what Elsa wanted—because she often denied those wants. Now all she had to do was answer. A single word would do. When it came it was confused, and not the word Anna had been expecting to hear.

"N-no—Yes. I…" Elsa sighed, hugging herself, not bothering to hide her face anymore. "…please."

Anna walked around the bed until she was on Elsa's right, carefully keeping her distance, showing her sister due respect for her fears. She approached slowly, and if Elsa wanted her to stop she was fairly sure she'd be able to read the signs before she spoke. One step. Two steps. Only inches from the bed now. Tiny flurries of snow swirled in the air. She stopped, waiting patiently. If Elsa was so scared of hurting her with her magic, then she would hold back, until Elsa felt she had it under control.

"W-why did you stop?" Elsa asked, confused, staring at her.

"You're scared of your magic hurting me. I–I'm giving you time. I know it's scary, but I'm trying to help by making it not scary. I know you won't let your magic hurt me, but I also know you sometimes don't believe that."

"Because it _did_ hurt you. Because you never stopped loving me… and… and… please, I'm only just keeping it together. I _need_ your help. I–I don't deserve it, but I need it."

"Stinker," Anna chided her sister, practically throwing herself onto the bed, enjoying the way it bounced beneath her. "You do deserve me, and I deserve you. We keep each other safe." Then the red haired princess wrapped her arm around Elsa's shoulders and pulled her close. It didn't matter if she was sad, or scared, or things queens probably shouldn't be, because right now she wasn't the queen. Right now, to Anna, all she was was her sister. It was all she'd ever had to be.

"But I keep hurting you?" Anna let out an exasperated sigh when she heard Elsa's confusion.

"Who thawed me when I froze to death?"

"M-me?"

"Yes, you. You loved me so much it thawed my frozen heart. Who gave me an entire day, to show me I was just as special as the queen?"

"Me."

"That's right, that was you. Who told me her darkest secret, knowing I'd understand?"

"I–I did."

"You did, and it was scary for me too, but we were honest, and I'm proud of us—proud of you." Anna smiled, feeling her sister's warmth, kissing her hair. It was something their mother had done for her, so she hoped it would comfort Elsa the same way. "Who saved me from those horrible men?"

"I did. _I_ did!"

"Yes, you did, even though it hurt you to do it—and I learned that you're really good at kissing."

"Anna!"

"It's true," she shrugged, continuing. "Who stayed with me, even when it was hard? Even when I couldn't accept help? Even… even when I couldn't speak?"

"I did," Elsa sniffed, obviously remembering.

"You did," Anna agreed. "You never gave up on me. Just like I'll never give up on you. Do you understand now?"

"I… you mean…?"

"You deserve me, because you look out for me. You care for me. You try and make me happy. If you really didn't deserve me, do you think I'd still be here?"

"…no."

"So either you deserve me, or we're both stuck in Hel."

"Both?"

"I'd ride Naglfar to Hel and fight my way back if it meant I could keep you."

"You… you really…?"

"I really would, Elsa. You're important to me, you're my sister, and I love you. So very much. I wish you could see."

"I do see," Elsa smiled sadly, looking up at her sister. Anna smiled back warmly, hair falling haphazardly across her face. She took a moment to try taming it, and Elsa smiled at her.

"Would you like to brush my hair?" The way Elsa's face suddenly lit up was surely the best moment of the morning, Anna decided. "You can help me braid it too, if you want."

Elsa took the brush from the floor, leaning half off the bed to retrieve it, forcing Anna to stifle a laugh. Then she let Anna shuffle over in front of her, sitting between her legs, back facing her. Anna could feel the brush running softly through her hair, teasing out the snarls and tangled knots. It was a nice, sisterly gesture, and if Elsa's hair hadn't already been done she would have offered to brush it in return. As it was she just sat in silence, appreciating the fact that even if Elsa was afraid of hurting her, her love was able to break that wall apart. Every wall Elsa built up to keep them apart, she would tear down to bring them back together. But the walls Elsa sometimes used to protect herself—those she would respect. Those she would leave alone, because sometimes Elsa did need that space. She understood. She could do nothing less.


	61. Shield and Faith

Ice crunched underfoot, and Nikolaus felt an unsettling shift in the air around him. It had been snowing softly since early morning, covering Arendelle and its surrounding lands in a thin layer of white. The day was warm enough to melt it, making footing on the ice covered fjord treacherous. Four men were with him, traversing the ice. It was not as smooth as it had first looked, small, jagged rises and clawed ridges breaking the surface in chaotic patterns. It was still easily thick enough to ruin any ship that tried to bull its way through. He doubted even an ironclad could have broken past it.

Not all the men walking with him were from the Southern Isles. Only his two guards, one bearing the white flag of truce. The other men were the Spanish trade emissary, and his assistant, apparently late for a meeting with one Per Johanssen, who handled all of Arendelle's international trade. That in turn implied a ruling council, or a trusted circle of advisors to the queen. He knew enough to know that no monarch ruled alone, much as they might like it to appear so. Even his own father had a coterie of supporters and ministers to aid in the minutiae of running the Southern Isles on a day to day basis. The same was true of any large organization, such as the navy—it was also why he remained only a commodore, because anything higher would not have let him take to the water anywhere near as often.

Amado Ortiz was the Spanish emissary's name, and it had been the first thing Nikolaus learned after helping him out of the launch. The second had been how fond he was of his own voice, and how inflated his opinion of himself seemed to be. But, at least it kept his men entertained. What was interesting was how well the Spaniard managed to take the frozen fjord in his stride—it was almost like he had expected to encounter something like this. It was then that Nikolaus remembered that Spain had sent a delegation to attend Elsa's coronation.

He was still worried, however, that Weselton's agents might have succeeded in their plot to assassinate the queen. It didn't seem likely, given that the fjord was still frozen, but then, he didn't know if her magic would remain after her death. It well might, and he could be going to see not the queen, but a ruling council. Perhaps even a military council, given the news that some of Arendelle's Royal Marines had been seen leaving the _Trader_ the night before.

Nikolaus looked up, at the edge of the docks. They were nearly there, and one person stood out, apart from the crowd milling around. A woman, of modest height, with pale blonde hair. But it was her choice of attire that struck him most—furs. Even in late summer, she wore fur. It was possible that she did not originally hail from Arendelle herself. Maybe some warmer clime—but she had distinctly Nordic features. She leveled a finger towards Ortiz, and he smiled and waved, babbling something in Spanish to his aide. Both of them strode forward with greater purpose, eventually helped up the side of the docks by the woman and someone from the crowd. An animated conversation ensued, and Nikolaus knew that the woman must have been either important or well known to the Spanish. Just before she vanished into the crowd, he thought he saw an older man trailing her—then they all passed out of view, and he had to climb up the side of a pier.

Arendelle seemed a little backward, at least around the town square. It was as if history had not quite caught up with them since the time of Napoleon. Then again, Arendelle was an old kingdom, as old as the Southern Isles, older than Corona. They could trace their history back to some time in the 800's, when Harald Fairhair managed to unite the disparate viking clans. Nikolaus set those thoughts aside for later—he had just seen the castle gates, and they remained open. Not what he would have expected had the queen been killed. Given the crowd he thought it would be easy to enter the castle grounds.

Two guards in pale green overcoats barred the entrance, hands resting near their broadswords. Unsubtle, but not overtly aggressive. That had to be a good sign.

"Queen Elsa is not taking unscheduled visitors today."

"Can you at least tell me why?"

"She is… unwell. Perhaps a reaction to something she ate." Which meant the guard either didn't know what was wrong, or did know, and was giving a reasonable explanation for the mildly curious. Nikolaus was more than merely mildly curious. Especially as the queen might be holding his brother captive. An eyebrow twitched, and Nikolaus rubbed it with his thumb. Cold. A tiny flake of snow, somehow the fall was heavier here than on the fjord.

"This snow," Nikolaus gestured broadly, around the courtyard. "This is her doing?"

The guard nodded. "Sir, I must request that you leave, unless you have, in fact, scheduled an appointment with the Queen."

"I do not," Nikolaus sighed heavily, not yet turning away. "Is it difficult to arrange an appointment?"

"No, sir, it is not. There is usually an informal session for airing grievances on Tuesday, or you can speak with Kai to arrange a formal meeting."

"Kai?"

"The castle's steward."

"Where can I find this Kai?"

"He is, for the moment, engaged in his duties maintaining the castle and its staff. If you return at noon, I can arrange for him to meet you here at the gates."

"Please see to it," Nikolaus bowed, turning to leave. A few hours to explore Arendelle. Talk to her people. Perhaps that would grant him greater perspective on the matter. And after three days, what was a few hours more to Frederik? Perhaps just long enough to stew a little for getting his fool self captured. Unless… Nikolaus cursed. Count Langenberg had been leading that fleet. Frederik had gone with a group of marines. Surely he would not have been so foolish…

* * *

"I should thank you, really," Marshal Markus Gerhardt spoke with a trace of dark humour in his voice. "With the Queen dead and her sister gone you assured a crisis of succession. You let me in to the halls of power—the council was easy enough to sway—so I really should thank you."

"Then why don't you release me—I could make you a very rich man. The Duke's wealth is well known."

"Of course it is," Gerhardt smiled coldly. "But it pales in comparison to the size of Arendelle's new war chest… the royal treasury was larger than even I expected. I could buy enough soldiers to hold Weselton indefinitely. Or I could take my time training them, equipping them with the very best money can buy. Or I could be truly vindictive, and commission a number of great bombards, and simply level Weselton. I find that option lazy however, because Weselton has a number of mines that could prove very valuable when they are conquered."

"You wouldn't dare. The league will stop you."

Gerhardt let out a cold laugh. The Hanseatic league was dead, nearly two hundred years had passed since its members last met, and even then they held only the barest sliver of power in greater Europe. If Langenberg thought the threat of the league would stop anyone he was either sadly deluded, or living in a past so far removed from reality it no longer mattered. There was also the matter in which Weselton had declared war; which Langenberg still thought had succeeded. Gerhardt was unwilling to disabuse the Count of that notion.

"You declared war, recall—by killing Queen Elsa." Smiling coldly, the Marshal steepled his hands. "Perhaps you thought a crisis of succession would paralyze the kingdom? It might have, had I not been waiting for just such an opportunity to seize power. So, I thank you for that. There is still the matter of your punishment—but perhaps we could broker a deal."

Gerhardt could almost see the gears turning behind Langenberg's greedy, self-serving eyes. "So… the Duke's gold suddenly appeals to you?"

"Well, no. I am already a very rich man, but I find myself short on that most vital currency for rulership. Information."

"And if I give you this information?"

Stepping back, into the shadows, Gerhardt lowered his tone. "If I find it satisfactory, you may want to chew your next meal very carefully. If I find it truly useful, the Duke may have found a new ally…"

"Then what is it you wanted to know?"

"Why start with the Royal Princess—why not go straight for the Queen?"

"We had intended to strike earlier, but our agents had, shall we say, a falling out with each other."

Well, that certainly had to rate as the most interesting thing Gerhardt had heard all morning. That Weselton had planned a strike was no big surprise. He had suspected they might, given Queen Elsa's treatment of their kingdom. He had not known what form such an attack might take—or who it might have been directed at—but to learn that it had been foiled by their agents' own ineptitude… well, it meant he could sleep a little easier, knowing that his plans clearly operated several levels above what Weselton was capable of.

"So, your agents fell into violence," the Marshal stayed at the edge of the shadows in the dungeon. "It seems clear they didn't survive. Were they so bloodthirsty?"

"Only the man who hired them knows that."

"And who hired them, Count Langenberg?"

"Our man here, on your council. The Penman."

"Ah… he may be in some trouble then."

"Why is that?"

"We were to assemble the council after Queen Elsa's death. For some reason he stabbed another councillor when she came to call on him. He was thrown into the dungeons for attempted murder. She was rather displeased by his actions. So was I—she was once something of a protege to me; I'm sure you understand, serving under the Duke for so long. Such a pity he has no heirs to inherit his title."

"He has me."

"Yes, but titles are so easily contested when there are no blood relatives. A sad state of affairs really—unless, perhaps, you sought backing from a real power."

"From you, you mean." The Count's words were practically dripping with condescension, so much so in fact that Gerhardt wanted to check the floor to see if it needed sweeping.

"Well, from Arendelle," Gerhardt stepped into the half light in front of the Count's cell. "But only if you can tell us everything we want to know."

"And what if I trust the Duke to give me my due?"

"Then you're a bigger fool than you look. The Duke twice tried to kill Queen Elsa—and she ruled the kingdom that was Weselton's foremost partner in trade. We were his allies, and he threw that away. Do you think you would fare any better—especially if we gave the curse to you?"

"What curse?"

Gerhardt smiled darkly. It wasn't every day he got to play with the old gods, Arendelle's history, and its monarch's greatest fears all at once. Such a beautiful lie, but with just a hint of truth that would be enough to terrify the Count into submission. He was vain, arrogant, and self-serving. He wasn't overly bright nor imaginative, and Gerhardt would use those weaknesses to the very best of his ability.

"It was said the Jotünn had powers over all the elements of winter, and that Odin wiped them out. The legends all agree on that point. What they don't agree on is whether or not one of them survived, in human form. A sorceress, who soon married a king, and who bore another child of magic. When she came of age, all this child touched turned to ice. Even the heart of the man she loved. Knowing she could not be saved, she sought death in battle, hoping to end the curse.

"But when she was struck down a shard of ice lodged in the heart of the man that killed her, and he shared a lesser form of her curse. Soon he had a family, and one of his daughters was also cursed. But where her grandmother sought death in battle for this curse, she instead sought life, using her magic with wild abandon. Each time she cursed an enemy, she grew weaker, spreading her magic far too thinly.

"When she died, her magic flowed into all of her victims—those that still lived. They too had families, some cursed, some not. The world changed, and magic vanished, save for parlour tricks and sleight of hand. True magic was spoken of only once or twice a generation—perhaps you know the tale of Rapunzel, heir apparent of Corona? Magic exists in this world, whether you like it or not. But that is not my point.

"No, my point is that the person who killed the Queen now bears the curse. Did you not wonder why the fjord remains frozen; why snow hangs in the air outside; why it seems so cold in the mornings here? Because the Queen's magic is alive, even if she isn't—and all I have to do is have her killer touch you. Then either you die, or you gain the curse as well. Either way, _I_ win.

"Now you're going to tell me everything I want to know, or we find out how you react to the curse."

"You wouldn—"

"You declared war. I can, and I will. Now answer me!" Langenberg shrank back and Gerhardt smiled. He had needed to raise his voice only this once, and it had exactly the desired effect. Of course, there was how he planned to destroy Langenberg after he learned everything…

"The Princess's captors. How many men did you send?"

"A–a score. No, two dozen."

"You sent thirty. Don't think to lie to me Langenberg."

"How many assassins did you send against the Queen?"

"None. They weren't trained… they were a mob."

"A mob that had to deal with a larger, angrier mob afterwards. They were lynched almost on the spot."

"You were there?"

"I wasn't fast enough to save the Queen—but I didn't want to be." Gerhardt felt a shiver just then, and he hoped Elsa would never learn of his words. It was among his ambitions to hold such power—just not at that cost. But if Elsa were to hear his words without context… "Now, how many ships did you bring to invade Arendelle—how many in your second wave?"

"Second wave?" Langenberg was clearly confused. That was good; it meant the ships in the fjord were likely the only Weseltonian forces within a week's travel. "Ten. Six of the li—Invade?!"

"Oh, I know what those Third-rates really were, Count Langenberg. I serve as Marshal for all Arendelle's military. I could hardly fail to recognize a troopship. I must commend your dressing on the gunports though; quite convincing from a distance. I don't really care for that. I want to know why you didn't just kidnap the Royal Princess—you also sent that note, and from the marks we saw we know she was tortured severely."

"You said she was missing." At last, a glimmering of true intelligence. Gerhardt had been wondering when that might finally emerge. "You said…"

"Did I? Did say she was _still_ missing today?" A slip that was easy to cover. Hopefully.

"No…"

"So, why torture her if you planned to kill the Queen?"

"To draw the Queen out, into the open. We know she shuts herself in the castle. We could never breach the castle and be assured of killing her there. She had to be in the open. Vulnerable. To do that we had to make threats using the Princess. And if our plan had failed, we could still have controlled her."

"You failed."

"The Queen is dead—that's not a failure."

"So are all your men at the fort. Hiding in Løkarna was almost smart. Almost. You failed, and the Royal Princess escaped. Did you not wonder why those men sent you no messages? Your man on the council also failed. Per Johanssen is alive and well, he was much hardier than your poisoner expected. You failed again, trying to sabotage our relations with Spain, no doubt. Your fleet failed, you couldn't even repel an assault from a handful of Southern Isles' ships with vastly superior numbers. You failed to stop my Royal Marines. You have failed."

Gerhardt smiled coldly, stepping out of the shadows, letting the Count see the pure contempt he felt. It didn't matter what happened to the Count anymore, he'd obtained all the relevant information to set his own plans in motion.

"You are nothing to us, and I'm surprised she has let you live even this long. Everything you have done has failed. Even your assassin failed."

Gerhardt stepped closer to the bars of the cell. This was the moment. Where he could see that tiny flicker of doubt in Langenberg's eyes. He was going to enjoy destroying the Duke's protege. The information he had provided would useful in cleaning house, especially with regards to those few ships still in the fjord. Now it was time to land the final blow.

"Your assassin made only one mistake." The shock and confusion on the Count's face was priceless, and Gerhardt suddenly wished Elsa was well enough to reinforce his point with a touch of her magic. The silence from behind the bars told him he had Langenberg's undivided attention. It was true, the would be assassin had made only one—critical—mistake.

"He missed."

* * *

Elsa lay against her pillows feeling the sadness swirling around her like the snowfall in her room and across the town. She was worried about it—not that she might hurt anyone, but that she might so much as inconvenience them as they went about their daily routine. She had tried to reign it in, but even with Anna's help it didn't seem to be working. She was just sad today, and that was all there was to it. Her magic responded so much more strongly to her negative emotions it was disturbing, but with Anna by her side at least it wasn't so scary anymore. Even if she was still afraid of hurting her sister. Again.

She tried one more time to make the snowfall stop, and for a second or so it did, but it just took so much effort to be happy enough to have any kind of control. Anna patted her on the shoulder, and she smiled. Tried to smile. For Anna. Because she deserved to know her efforts to get through to her sister were not going unnoticed. Or unrewarded. Elsa knew she had to do something very special for her sister, but she really wasn't sure what. Another day of just being sisters would be nice, and give them an excuse to be together for an entire day. It had to be something more though.

Her mind wandered, and Elsa thought of the cave, the _bautasten_ outside, and the story inscribed upon them. Just because that queen had not appeared in Arendelle's history did not mean she hadn't been in any records. It might have been a time before records, and that idea intrigued Elsa to a great degree. Suddenly it seemed very important to get to the library. Important enough that she forgot for a moment how sad she was. The snowfall abated. The sadness crept back, and she wondered why she didn't just curl up and go back to sleep until the world managed to forget all the terrible things she was.

She tried telling Anna what she was feeling, but couldn't articulate it properly, earning a very confused stare from the redhead. She tried again, starting from something she couldn't explain. She doubted her sister could have either, but there was always that chance.

"So–sometimes it's just easier to be sad."

"Even with me right here?"

Elsa graced her sister with a sad little smile. "Even then." She slipped her hand into her sister's, grateful she didn't start or try and pull away. "But it's less sad with you—and… and I'm still scared I might hurt you."

"I told you, I won't let you hurt me." How she wished that was true. But Elsa held her tongue, allowing her sister to believe that. At least one of them had to. "I–I think I understand too, Elsa. You were so afraid. Afraid you could _kill_ me. Every time our paths crossed. But… but… not just me. Everyone. I…" Elsa could hear her choking up, so she gave Anna's hand a little squeeze. "You were—are—so strong. You'll beat this. You won't let the monsters win. Not this time."

"You don't know… what it's like–like to–like to kill someone. Th–then you hold them in your arms. You want to take it all back—but you can't. You just… can't."

"I do know," and Elsa heard the quiet, sad conviction in her sister's voice, and she knew the world had lost another spark of innocence. "I tried to help Ragnar… I–I killed a soldier. The dagger… it went through… it was so _easy_ … and then… then… he just… falls. I never saw his face, Elsa. Never. I killed a man without ever seeing his face."

Elsa turned to her sister, shock and disbelief writ large upon her face. She was supposed to be the the monster, the one unsure of the righteousness of her actions, not Anna. Never Anna.

"And then… then the nightmare, Elsa. I–I–I killed—I killed _you_. Dagger. Through your–your neck. Couldn't speak." Anna shivered, and Elsa dragged herself closer, wrapping her arm around the redhead's shoulders. She started and squirmed away, but then she lay back down and Elsa understood she had just been trying to get comfortable. "But you… so hard. You killed him, to save me."

Elsa closed her eyes, recalling the expression frozen forever on that man's face. Terror. "I froze his heart. Only a monster could do that."

"Stinker." Which was followed by a thump hard enough to make Elsa wince, rubbing her chest.

"Ow. That hurt, Anna."

"You are not. A monster." Anna paused, delivering a softer thump. "If I have to beat it into you, I will. I might leave a mark. Maybe quite a few. But I could always kiss them better and you're a better kisser and… wait, what?"

Elsa pulled her sister closer, kissing her on the cheek. Nothing lustful, nothing unsisterly, just something bright and spontaneous. Something… _Anna_. Something to break the sudden tension between them. Something that made Anna laugh, and smile, brushing her cheek with her fingers before looking accusingly at Elsa. The elder sister put on the most innocent look she could manage, trying to smile for her sister. The darkness might try and claim her, but she wasn't about to let it come between _them_.

Anna pressed her shoulder against Elsa's, and the platinum blonde Queen of Arendelle felt a sudden warmth blossom within her heart. It wasn't enough to drive back the darkness, but it was more than enough to hold it at bay. She wasn't happy, not really, but neither was she quite so sad anymore. As long as Anna was at her side, as long as they could share some kind of touch, she could be content. And contentment was enough to bring her powers under control.

The snow had stopped, inside and out, and she let out a sigh of relief. She also felt Anna's fingers twining with her own.

"I knew you could do it." Elsa closed her eyes and felt a tear tracing its way down her cheek. The quiet confidence in Anna's words said so much, offered so much trust, support, and understanding that Elsa was overcome. She felt warm breath against her cheek, and the gentle press of her sister's lips. It was more measured than her actions had been, but she knew the reason for that. Anna rubbed against her shoulder again, making a soft noise that sounded like a purr.

Elsa smiled, the slightest of frowns creasing her brow. There was more than just trust and support in Anna's words. It was more than confidence in her sister. The warmth in her heart felt light—a lightness placed there by her sister. A lightness, bright and powerful, that she had felt only once before. Because Anna's words weren't just telling Elsa she had confidence in her. They came from _faith_. Anna had faith in them; in her. _Faith_.

_Shield and faith will guide your battle_.

And if Anna was faith, did that mean… Hank was her shield? She blinked. It might have been his duty to protect her, to lay down his life if she were in danger, but she hadn't thought of the deeper implications. Not until the previous night, when she had revealed her feelings. She had also called on him, not trusting herself, because she trusted him to protect her—from herself, if need be. Protector. _Shield_.

The battle was no physical conflict, but against her demons, the darkness in her soul. It all made sense. She needed faith to support her as much as she needed a shield to protect her. It meant more, because she would never again have to face the darkness alone. All she had to do was reach out. She didn't have to _ask_ for help—they would know when she needed it. They offered her support without asking anything in return—only that she stay, and keep fighting. It was a humbling thought, and Elsa wiped away a tear. Her battle raged on, but she would no longer have to fight alone.


	62. A Good Heart

Frederik Westergard stood in the grand hall of Arendelle's castle, taking in the patterned stone floor, so unlike the hardwoods that dominated the upper levels. It was also much more impressive than the throne room, where Queen Elsa had granted him an audience yesterday. The throne room had been understated, and had more subtle touches of pagan Nordic styling than did the grand hall. An older, portly servant had called him to the hall, and subsequently left. The only company was a sole palace guard who as talkative as the average statue.

The servant was returning, and behind him Frederik thought he saw a familiar face. He held up his right hand in greeting, offering a formal wave. The smile told him it truly was his brother—who was now looking quite relieved.

"Frederik," Nikolaus bowed slightly, addressing his brother. "I hope you have been treated well?"

"I am the Queen's guest presently. She has been far less hospitable to Langenberg."

"I should damn well hope so." Frederik smiled at the savage conviction in his brother's words.

"How fares our little fleet?" If Nikolaus had lost, if he was here seeking refuge, there would be problems for all involved. Frederik doubted very much that his brother had lost, at least, the battle—but there had to have been losses in material, losses among the men. Even a minor skirmish at sea left ships and crews damaged.

"We lost two cutters as fire ships, and one of our Fifth-rates will need repairs. Weselton lost one Second-rate, with another crippled beyond their ability to repair at sea. Two of their Third-rates now lie at the bottom of the fjord, and I would be surprised if the third didn't join them before the moon rises. We also destroyed a Fifth-rate, but that seems inconsequential compared to how soundly we defeated their fleet with only three ships of the line."

Frederik pursed his lips, frowning, stroking his sideburns as he became lost in thought. Such a decisive battle—a masterstroke, almost—put him in mind of Nelson, and of course, Trafalgar. During the battle the British ships had taken severe damage, but none had been sunk, while Napoleon's fleet had suffered the loss of twenty odd ships, all but one to surrender and capture, rather than absolute destruction. But Nikolaus had used fire ships, on vessels at anchor, when they were clearly unprepared for any combat. That it had cost Weselton so dearly, and Langenberg so completely, was a balm to his spirit. Yet he still had doubts about his brother's claims. Surely the _Victory_ and the fires could not have destroyed that many ships…

Not unless Arendelle had somehow assisted, a flotilla returning from patrol, perhaps. Even a pair of frigates on escort duty. Something to explain how so much damage could have been inflicted while their own losses were so light. Unless… unless Nikolaus had not destroyed those ships, but _sunk_ them. If he had followed Nelson's doctrine, then yes… it could have been done. But Frederik was willing to give the men with Langenberg some credit—surely they could not all have been as incompetent as he was. Why hadn't they fought? What was missing from this picture? What had Langenberg's aim been?

Arendelle. To start a war, so close to the enemy, and to sow such confusion as a crisis of succession, it would be the perfect time to launch an invasion. So Langenberg wanted the entire kingdom, and the death of its queen would have been only the beginning of his conquest. Ruthless, and surprisingly well thought-out. The invasion plan could not possibly have been his—which meant someone else, someone with a solid grasp of military and political realities, was deeply involved.

It also meant some of the ships with Langenberg's fleet were not warships. Some of them _had_ to have held infantry for an invasion. The Fifth-rates were too small, and the Second-rates too powerful to turn into troop ships—their cannons were needed to protect them at sea. That meant those Third-rates had not been true Third-rates, but transports, full of troops and supplies. Full of… powder. No wonder they had been so easy to destroy. No wonder they hadn't been able to fight back. The troops on board would have been too busy putting out fires, trying to stop the magazine exploding. Now all of those ships lay beneath the waters of the fjord.

A wry smile crept across his face as Frederik began to wonder if his brother had known those were troopships, or if he had simply thought them Third-rates, and far more dangerous than they actually were. There was only one way to find out.

"Did you know; about the Third-rates?"

"Know what, Rik?" Clearly not then.

"Langenberg had designs against Arendelle. He would need infantry—where do you think they w—"

"That makes a disturbing amount of sense… I thought those Third-rates didn't put up much of a fight. The rest of the fleet surrendered after they went down—about the same time you and Langenberg were taken, if I don't miss my guess."

"Gentlemen," the portly servant addressed the Westergard twins. "We have an excellent sitting room if you wish to discuss this matter in more detail. I am sure it would be far more comfortable than standing in the grand hall."

Nikolaus laughed softly. "Of course, Kai. If you might show me the way?"

Frederik followed as the pair turned, the guards, both Nikolaus's and his own escort following them. They needed to have an important—and hopefully private—talk about trying _not_ to start wars while in another kingdom's sovereign waters.

* * *

"Captain Ortiz, surprised to see you here," Vanja smiled at the Spaniard in front of her.

"Ah, but how could I miss lunch with such a charming young woman as yourself." The compliment was sincere, as always; and as always, there was that glimmer in his eye. He wanted more, and he was accustomed to getting it. Vanja denied his advances every time, with as much civility as she could muster, but that just seemed to make him strive further. She wasn't going to stonewall him, because he was, to her at least, a genuinely likable man.

"Flattery isn't getting you anywhere."

"Ah, señorita Ostberg-Lang, I am merely keeping up appearances. My offer still stands, from our previous meeting."

"No dice, Amado. I like it here."

"But it is always so cold. I do not know how you can stand it. And the Queen, she is a—"

"Yes. I had to make my peace with it. It's her sister that seems more important."

"Had you seen them on the fjord, you would understand."

Vanja picked at her food for a momentary distraction. She hadn't seen them on the fjord. In fact, no one on the council had, all the stories they had were secondhand, magnified no doubt in the retelling. What she had seen, however, was the way the Queen reacted when her sister was in danger, real or imagined. And she had also seen something of the bond the royal sisters shared, the way Elsa doted on Anna. There might have been more to it than mere sisterly affection, but that was baseless speculation. Royals might sometimes have done that to 'keep the bloodline pure', but with two women there was really no point. And she really doubted Elsa harboured any sapphic desires.

Captain Ortiz sat across from her, ordering something from Silje as she passed their table. He smiled, waiting patiently for Vanja to say something. She was going to hold her silence for as long as possible, until she saw his plate. A long coil of meat, much like a snake with no skin, but far paler, with not vegetables, but rice. Something he must have carried as tradable goods. Vanja frowned, gesturing at the coil of meat with her fork.

"What in all the nine hells is that?"

"Rice, beans—oh, you mean the meat, yes?" Vanja nodded. "Lamprey."

"And they're safe to eat?"

"Delicious, in fact. Very rich in flavour, stronger than your famous smoked salmon even. Would you care for a bite?"

"I—No, thank you, Amado. You do remember I prefer game?"

"Of course, what huntress would not. Tell me, any new furs in the works, fine pelts I should happy to relieve you of, with appropriate recompense."

"I'll be making a full fur, white. I'm waiting for winter to fall first."

"You will look magnificent in it."

Vanja smiled, blushing slightly. The fur wasn't going to be for her, and when the intended recipient wore it, she always imagined them wearing nothing else underneath. It played on her mind at odd moments, and even though it went against everything she knew, she wanted to do something nice for the Queen. She didn't want to be seen doing anything nice for her, of course, but she doubted anyone would ask too many questions about a package from a secret admirer. Cursing inwardly, Vanja brought her thoughts back to the present, to the man trying to share lunch with her.

"It's a gift, Amado."

"Then I am certain whoever it is will look just as magnificent," he took a bite of his lamprey, then frowned ever so slightly. "But you do not hand out gifts."

"This is different. Just once, for a person who has had a very hard life. They won't even know it's from me."

"Then why?"

"Because sh—they—will look more elegant and attractive than ever."

"Ha! I _knew_ it!" captain Ortiz slammed his mug against the table. "It's not _me_ you dislike, it's _men_. Sebastián will be so very disappointed to learn that."

Vanja sighed inwardly, rolling her eyes. Trust Amado to put and two together and somehow make five, not that he was entirely wrong, but just enough to be a problem if he started telling too many people. Or any people. And of course, being Spanish, he had no indoor voice either; everything was in his rich baritone, and every gesture overly exaggerated as if he was constantly on stage.

"No, Amado, it's mostly you," Vanja smiled at the captain. "You haven't been here long enough to hear the rumours, have you?"

The Spanish captain leaned closer across the table, nearly knocking over his drink. "Rumours—how scandalous!"

"When are they not?"

"If there was no scandal, it wouldn't be a real rumour, now would it, señorita?"

"Of course. This rumour holds that I've been seen far too many times with a certain blacksmith to be 'just friends'."

"And this is wrong? You are not more than 'just friends'?" Amado's voice rose in pitch as he finished his questions.

"It is not _as_ wrong as most." Vanja emphasized the point by stabbing the air with her fork. "It just took me a while to see it."

"Sebastián will still be disappointed; to hear that your heart belongs to another," Amado smiled warmly. "Then, I have not known him to be happy about anything. It seems he lives in a state of perpetual disappointment. He was even disappointed to hear that our terms of trade with Arendelle would be so generous. I do not understand such people myself, but he has never negotiated a dealing for us that went badly. Oh, and I will be staying the night in town, if you believe you can best me once more."

Vanja just smiled. Despite his heritage, he just couldn't manage to out-drink seemingly anyone. But, he never gave up, and that was worth something. Usually his shirt.

* * *

Anna had managed to convince Elsa to leave her room, at least long enough to have lunch out in the conservatory on the second floor. A gentle breeze blew in from the fjord, playfully tousling stray strands of platinum hair. Arendelle's Royal Princess smiled at that, the way her sister's flyaway hair seemed to have a mind of its own. Elsa's eyes were distant though, and Anna knew she was lost in thought—though hopefully not the darker thoughts she had been having that morning. Kai had recently informed them that Crown Prince Frederik's brother, a Southern Isles' commodore, had come to the castle under a flag of truce, seeking an audience with the queen. Affairs of state like that had never before bothered Anna, but with Elsa's current state she began to wonder if maybe she shouldn't have paid more attention to her tutors. Then again, she had always been the spare, and she knew no one ever cared what the royal spare did.

Well, they did—Papa had given her a fair few spankings and banishments to her room—but they seemed to care less than when Elsa did something, especially something wrong. Elsa had been that perfect princess growing up, Anna knew she had tried so very hard, and now she wondered if that might have been some of the problem. Elsa always expected the very best—from herself more than anyone else—and when she didn't get it, things… broke. Her magic got loose, and that only seemed to make things _worse_. It took love, compassion, and understanding to reign in her magic. Anna had to wonder if forcing her and her sister apart really was the best choice.

"Elsa?"

Elsa blinked, looking around in confusion, and Anna had to stifle a laugh. She had to remember when her sister got lost in thought, she really did get _lost_. The red haired young princess reached out, across the table, taking one of her sister's pale hands in her own. It was warm, and she didn't know why so many people thought it should be cold. Just because Elsa could control ice didn't mean she had to be made of it. Anna felt her sister squeeze her hand, and looked over in time to see her attempt to smile. She smiled back.

"I—Can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"If we hadn't been… apart… for all those years, do you think you'd still be sad. I mean, not like you'd never get sad, but like sad how you said you were this morning, how you are… now? Are you still sad? Less sad? Am I talking too much? Maybe if I take the grapefru—"

"Anna, please," Elsa let out a choked laugh, but her voice became stern. "At least _chew_ your food before speaking. And swallow. Manners."

Swallowing the slice of grapefruit Anna thumped her chest as the slightly tangy fruit caught in her throat. "Sorry," her hand massaged her throat, and for a second she saw Mikkel's face, felt as if it were his large, rough hands around her neck. She blinked and shivered, trying to cast the memory out. It was happening less often now, but it still happened. Apparently Elsa had noticed it too.

"Anna, are you okay?"

"I–I think so. Just a bad memory."

The door behind them rattled, and both young women turned. They weren't expecting anyone, and most people knew how to turn a handle. Their visitor wasn't most people.

"Can you believe I got stuck in there for two days?" Olaf retrieved his nose, which had somehow come loose walking through the door. "Brrr, not a nice place to get stuck. There were totally no doors either, just lots and lots of walls. I think I got lost. Oh, were you having a talk?"

"We were, Olaf," Elsa spoke softly.

"It's okay, you can join us," Anna slid over a low stool she had been resting her feet on. The diminutive snowman climbed up immediately, hanging his legs over the edge.

"So, what are we talking about?"

"Elsa's sad today. I want to help her feel happy."

"Oh, oh, I know! You could build a sno—oh, wait. Or you could go for a wa—ah, maybe not. Umm, ice skating?"

Anna smiled at the very skeptical look her sister was giving Olaf. Just because all his suggestions forgot that Elsa was disabled didn't mean they were actually bad suggestions. They could always just walk around the castle grounds too. Somewhere nice and safe. Somewhere relaxing. Maybe the smaller, private courtyard, or perhaps the gardens. After lunch, of course. But she also needed a plan to distract Olaf, because the levity he brought might not have been helping Elsa—to see how easy it was for him to be happy, when she could not be. Anna wasn't sure, but there were some things she wanted to ask Elsa that should not have been heard by prying ears, and especially not those of animated little snowmen.

"Olaf, can you find Kristoff?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, it's a surprise."

"If you tell me, I'll still act surprised."

"Olaf, go… actually, you could find Sven. You haven't talked to him in two days, have you?"

The little snowman let out a gasp of horror and ran for the door.

"Did you just foist my snowman off on a _reindeer?_ "

"Maybe," and Anna graced Elsa with her most devious smile.

* * *

Elsa found herself smiling more as the day progressed. She wasn't happy as such, but the sadness she felt seemed a little less pervasive. Anna had convinced her to roll up her sleeves and let down her hair, and she found the afternoon sun quite enjoyable against her face and arms. The slight breeze took any real sting out of the sun's heat. They were making another lap of the castle's private gardens and she was thankful that Anna had suggested it. Because that way no one else had seen it when she broke down, when Anna had to put the pieces back together. She'd just been looking at a _kusymre_ that Anna had picked for her, and against her will it had frozen. She'd dropped it out of shock, and it shattered.

She wheeled herself to a shaded corner, and very carefully conjured a bench of ice for Anna to sit on. Her arms were tired after pushing her chair around for so long, and she was sure Anna would appreciate the rest as well—despite the energy she seemed to exude. Then the red haired princess jogged over, skidding to a halt next to the ice bench.

"Are you okay, Elsa?"

"I'm fine. My arms are very tired though."

"Yeah, my legs could do with a break." And suiting action to words, Anna lay against the bench, pressing her back to it, letting out a contented little sigh. The scars, Elsa thought, overcoming her initial confusion. Of course, they probably still bother her. I still wonder why we haven't been walking through the town though.

"Anna, why—I mean, did you want to walk through Arendelle?"

"N–No. No… not today." There was more than just a hint of fear in her sister's voice, and Elsa frowned.

"You went with Kristoff yesterday."

"I did… it was… we were… we didn't go far. An–and the sauna was private; for us, I mean."

"So you don't want to go to Arendelle with me?" Elsa tried a little bribery. "Not even to the chocolate store."

"I'd love to, but I–I can't, okay?"

"Can I ask why not?"

"Because I'm afraid, gods damn it. It's not safe outside the gates—and I know it's silly, but right now I'd rather feel safe. It's more important than chocolate."

"But not Kristoff."

"I had to Elsa. He yelled at me, for us not talking to him. Not telling him I was okay—or not okay—or whatever. I wanted to just… I wanted to use him to get over what happened to me. But I did it wrong. He showed me. And teased me and it was scary. I was afraid… but he was so… nice. He respected everything I said; everything I wanted. He only made me want him more, damn it, so I did… last night, you know?—anyway I… what were we talking about?"

Elsa smiled softly, turning to face her sister, only to find Anna's eyes were closed, but her hand moved animatedly as she talked. "You said it wasn't safe outside the castle. You want to feel safe."

"I do; but I also want to be brave enough to go out there again. On my own. I–I just don't think I'm ready to yet—"

"And that's okay. If you've taught me anything, it's that I need to be more considerate, and accept that you're stronger and smarter than I might think. Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Anna sat up, fixing her sister with a stern gaze. Elsa fought hard to keep a straight face as Anna tried so hard to be serious. "I think maybe I need to beat some more sense into you."

"Careful feistypants, I might like it."

"You… you like it when I do that?"

"Anna, I like everything you do. I like everything about you. I like you too much. I love you, and you know in what way I mean," Elsa sighed in exasperation. "It's just you, and Kristoff, and I don't want to see you get hurt; then I've got Hank, and I think I really do like him, but I'm just not sure I like him in exactly the same ways I like you. I… argh, it's all so messed up in my head, and it's not helping me be any happier. There's something else I want to ask, but it's terrible, and I don't think any answer will be good, but I have to know…"

"Have to know what, Elsa?"

Here Elsa paused, taking a deep breath. What she wanted to know was what it felt like to die—to freeze to death. If it had hurt. But she'd cursed two people, one, she loved; the other she'd killed in a flash of pure hate. She wanted him to have suffered, but at the same time she wanted it to have been clean—so that she wasn't a monster. It was the worst fate she could imagine, for anyone except herself. The problem was Anna was the only person she could talk to about it, and she didn't want to dredge up what could have been nightmarish memories.

"I know it sounds morbid, but… what did it feel like to die?"

"Elsa!"

"I–I killed you, with my curse. That man at the fort, too. Part of me wants him to have suffered more than you did, but I… I don't want to be a monster because of it. I don't know if talking about it will help me, but I think my imagination may be far, far worse than the reality. And then… then I have to answer a really hard question from you, fair's fair, right?"

"That's fair," Anna agreed firmly, then her tone softened. "Can we not talk about it now? Can we just enjoy the afternoon a little longer, please?"

"O–of course." Elsa's reply was a little shaky. She had actually expected Anna to answer quickly, if not as accurately as possible. Anna lived in the moment, and for her to want time to be able to answer—Elsa shivered despite the afternoon's warmth. Maybe it was nothing untoward, maybe Anna did just want to spend the afternoon in the sun. With me, Elsa suddenly realized. We're both outside, and… not actually doing anything. She wasn't happy, but she was close enough to Anna to be content. She wondered if that was the same way her sister felt, the reason she just wanted a nice afternoon.

"Elsa?" the voice coming from beside her was quiet, and Elsa turned her head just enough to see Anna shifting to look at her. "I… what if… what if I can't tell you?"

Anger sparked behind the elder sister's crystal blue eyes, but she held it in check. If Anna was unable to tell her what had happened, that would have to be that. She wanted honesty, but she was hardly going to force something like this from her own sister. It was bad enough just to have asked the question—twice, in fact; she recalled an incomplete answer while they floated underneath the stars. Elsa closed her eyes before speaking.

"If you can't tell me, you can't tell me," Elsa let out a sigh. "Maybe it's best I never learn the truth of what I did to you—for my own sake. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt _anyone_. Now… I think I've killed more people in a week than… by the Divine, I don't even know. I am a monster, and you should have run from me so long ago. So long ago. You were always so good to me, but everything I do keeps hurting you. And… and—No. I _saved_ you. I keep hurting you, but I saved you. Y–you told me and—"

"Elsa, let it out," Anna was suddenly kneeling in front of her, taking a hand that had been hugging herself. Anna was warm, and kind, and that was all Elsa could focus on in that moment. "Let it go." Elsa shivered; how did Anna know to use those exact words? Anna smiled unknowing of the significance of what she'd just said. "And every time I have to put you back together, I get a chance to put more of myself in you and I mean totally not like that but like I can sort of make you see the world like I do and maybe you'll see yourself through my eyes. Well, one day, I hope."

"I don't deserve any of thi—Ow!"

" _That_ , you deserved." Anna growled, voice catching in her throat. "And if you keep thinking like that, I really will beat some sense into you."

Anna reinforced her point with another thump, much softer this time. Her fist splayed out into a palm against Elsa's chest, and the older sister sucked in a breath. Even after everything, Anna was still willing to touch her—almost intimately, at that—and she wondered if she might be teasing her too, just a little. She wasn't—it was to reinforce a point.

"You have a good heart Elsa. I don't know how, but one day you'll see it the same way I do."


	63. Spiralling Down

Elsa sat in the library, attempting to read the same sentence for the fifteenth time. She had already given up trying to do anything productive. She didn't feel as numb as she had the night before, but neither did she feel as close to happiness as she had that afternoon. A small, informal dinner with only her sister for company had seen her content, but it wasn't enough. It always felt like she was _using_ Anna. It was wrong, and she knew there were better ways to say it, but that was how it felt. Even now, having somehow convinced her sister that it would be a peaceful evening activity. Of course, she had for a moment forgotten that some of her sister's favourite books were the Flynn Rider stories.

Which really did little to explain the very awkward pose Anna was in, sprawled half off an armchair, back to the ground, feet to the sky, skirt held in a decent position only by friction against the cushion. She shifted a little and slipped, her legs sliding down as the book she was reading landed on her face. She let out an annoyed huff, then sprawled across the floor on her stomach, reading by the light of the gaslamps around the room. The only sound was the rustling of pages turning every so often.

A sixteenth attempt to read the same sentence was too much, and Elsa snapped the book shut in frustration. Anna turned to face her, concerned.

"I–I'm just tired, it's okay."

The red haired princess set down her book and strode over to her sister. There was a stern, knowing look on her face.

"Elsa, please—I _know_ you're not okay," Anna tempered her words with a smile. "You don't have to hide it. You don't have to be strong all the time."

"But what if I slip… if I fail… if I can't control it anymore?" Elsa shivered. That was always her biggest concern—what would happen should she fail to keep her powers in check, because it wasn't her that would pay the price. It was never her.

"Then you get to save me again," Anna smiled, gently resting her hand against Elsa's arm. "You did it once, you can do it again."

Elsa lapsed into silence. There really wasn't anything she could say, not now. Anna's faith in her knew no bounds, and despite the danger, she knew her sister would never leave her side. Not if she could help it. They couldn't go back to the way things were before—not after everything they had been through—so the only way was forward. Even if it seemed more painful than just staying here. The Queen of Arendelle let out a heavy sigh. What could she do?

She opened her book, trying once more to start a new page. Still nothing… it was like her eyes refused to see, or perhaps her mind refused to acknowledge the words; their order. It was so frustrating, but she had no idea how to move past it aside from leaving it for the next morning. Anna apparently noticed her struggle.

"You don't have to read it all tonight," the princess frowned in consternation. "Actually, can you read a book that big in one night?"

Elsa shook her head. "No… maybe two, three nights?"

"You can read really fast then… but I guess you have to right?" Anna smiled. "All your royal correspondence."

Elsa nodded, glad her sister was at least trying to reason and understand even something that small.

"Wait, if you're tired, why don't you go to bed?"

"Because…" Elsa trailed off, unsure how to properly phrase what it was she was feeling—or not feeling—at that moment. "It's—I'm no—I can't—"

"Yes, you can," Anna knelt next to her, lending her strength.

"W–when I'm sad; l–like this, I lose my energy very quickly. I–I can't concentrate and… and I just need a push, sometimes."

"Then come on," Anna was already halfway to the door before Elsa realized what was happening. "I've got an idea."

* * *

Elsa looked around the room her sister had led her to. The patterned marble floor, wooden pillars, banners and tapestries. All of them had significance in history. So did the room itself. It had held all those memories for thirteen years, and she knew it would hold them many more to come. And aside from one night, when Anna had sung to her, not a single one of those memories was good. She wanted to know why her sister insisted on bringing her to such a place.

Red hair flashed in the moonlight, the highest windows casting complex patterns across the floor and walls. Shadows flickered and danced along the walls, and it took Elsa several long seconds to realize what was happening. She had to look up, because Anna was _dancing_. For her. It was awkward, and a little off-time, as she always had been, but Anna danced with such energy it simply didn't matter. Now she was standing over her chair, and Elsa shivered. There was no possible way she could have danced, but she didn't want to disappoint her sister. She also lacked the energy, as she had told her sister not very long ago.

But Anna was humming quietly, her eyes closed, pacing around her sister's chair. Elsa let out a ragged breath when her ear caught the tune; when her mind placed the steps. The humming wasn't idle. The paces weren't impatience. They were steps, simple, easy steps, to one of the newer yet slower kinds of dancing—the Waltz. Anna held her hand out, and not knowing what else to do—not even knowing how to protest against it—Elsa took the proffered hand. She could feel a tingle at her fingertips, and was horrified when she saw ice glinting in the moonlight.

Looking away, Elsa tried to pull her hand free but her sister was too strong. Too strong for her own good. But Anna said nothing, made no comment on the frost against her palm, circling the back of her hand. It was as if she couldn't feel it. And still she danced, slowly pushing Elsa's chair back and forth, turning it slightly, clearly trying to figure out if it could be made to move sideways, as was proper for a waltz. The only sound in the room came from their steady breathing and Anna's rhythmic footfalls. For a moment—just for a moment—Elsa forgot everything. The world fell away from her. There was no time, no place, only Anna, and the dance. But the moment passed, and everything swirled into sadness once more.

She still had no idea why she was being shown such kindness. Why was it Anna could stand to be near her, let alone touch her after everything that had happened because of her failings? Elsa frowned, screwing her eyes shut. She didn't deserve Anna, and the world had shown that to be true more than once. She needed Anna, but she didn't deserve her. It was more than that—Anna deserved _better_. She was the only reason Arendelle had not become a frozen wasteland. Twice. First, at the coronation; and again, when Kristoff had returned with news that was dark but full of hope.

Snow was beginning to drift across the ballroom, and Elsa hung her head in shame. The dance had finished some time ago, but now she felt her sister's arm at her back, trying to lend her comfort and strength. It was working, but it felt not like it was being given, but that she was taking it—draining it—from her sister. Anna smiled across at her, a little sad, a little wistful. Elsa forced herself to break off, moving just out of reach. Anna let out a gasp of surprise, and Elsa knew she'd hurt her sister once again. It seemed to be the only thing she was good at.

Even in the moonlight she could see the tears welling in her sister's eyes. She wondered if perhaps her sister had thought they were close to some kind of breakthrough. Not unlikely… but she had to turn away as Anna held on to her mask of strength. The tears were there, but they didn't fall. It was the first time Elsa had seen anything like that from her sister, and it struck her like a physical blow. Because it looked like Anna was turning into _her_. She'd never have wished that upon her worst enemies, to be as cursed as she was.

Then Anna sat heavily, kicking a cloud of snow up around her. She leaned forward, one finger tracing something in the snow. Drawing. Curiosity quickly overcame fear. Just what was her sister drawing in the snow? What was she drawing that gave her such strength? Elsa had to know. Anna backed away slowly, shuffling through the snow, giving Elsa space. Elsa wished there was a way she could tell her sister how much she appreciated that simple gesture, but she couldn't. Instead she wheeled herself forward, slowly, trying to make sense of the lines drawn in her snowfall.

It was very simple, but it got the point across. Especially the single word written underneath. Because somehow, despite everything… it was true. If Anna said it, it had to be. Which meant she also had to accept the truth of it, no matter how impossible it seemed.

"Y–you really think that?" Elsa tried her best to keep her voice even. It seemed Anna could only nod in reply, but with that gesture came understanding, and somehow Elsa managed to stop the snow that time.

"I've always thought that, Elsa," Anna replied with a smile. "Except those times you acted like a total stinker, of course."

"I… Anna; I don't deserve you."

"How many ti—" the red haired young princess cut herself off before she could start a tirade. "Getting angry won't help _you_."

"Why do you even want to help me?"

"Because you're my sister, and I love you," Anna edged closer, putting out her hand. "You're worth more than you know."

"I keep hurting you. Even now."

Anna blew out a breath against her palm. "No, it was only cold and… it kinda tickled, actually. Do you think maybe you could do that for my back?"

"I—No. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault you're afraid of your own magic," Anna frowned slightly as she spoke. "And you know you can't hurt me, right?"

Elsa shook her head sadly, pushing her chair deeper into the shadows. It was so hard to make Anna understand sometimes—she trusted her too much. Magic was dangerous, uncontrollable. Even when she could use it her control was a tenuous thing. She could bend the magic to her will, she could make amazing things, but if she tried too much, if she slipped… the magic became wild, untamed. Søren had said it had a savage beauty, and that was exactly what she was afraid of. Because Anna might be forced to learn that only after being hurt by it. Just like in the morning. Just like in her ice palace. Just… nearly, at the coronation ball.

Inches. All those people had been mere inches from death. At her own hand. And that was only a little slip. How much more damage would she cause if she completely lost control? She shrank back as she noticed Anna approaching her. It wasn't safe to be around her. Not now. I might never be safe, but Anna would never leave her. She would fight through hell to save her, and Elsa knew it. That was why she had to get away, before she hurt Anna yet again.

"Elsa, please…" and the oldest royal sibling could hear the tears in her sister's voice.

"I–I can't stay."

"You can't, or you _won't_?" There was an edge of real anger in Anna's voice, and it hurt more than anything. But she had to leave. To keep Anna safe, because she could already feel the magic swirling deep within her, fighting for release. And if she got even the least bit angry at her sister… no. No, if that happened, she would take it on herself. One blinding instant of pain, and then the world would…

She froze. She wasn't meant to be thinking these thoughts. She was meant to be better than that. She had to reach out. Even if it hurt her. Even if it hurt _Anna_. She wasn't allowed to lie anymore. She made a promise, even if it hurt, even if it might break her, Anna deserved to know. Everything.

"A–Anna…" and suddenly her sister was just _there_ , holding her hand, trying to see into her eyes. Elsa couldn't ignore the way her sister's turquoise eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. How could she even think to demand anything from such a pure heart?

"Elsa, I'm here. For you." The redhead took a deep breath. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Elsa shook her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I–It's you…"

Silence blanketed the hall.

"I–I'm so afraid, Anna. You always get hurt—because of me. I've hurt you so much, and then, the magic… so strong… and if I got angry… but then, save you, hurt myself with the magic. I—I thought about… dying. Ki–killing myself; to protect you."

"Elsa," the sheer horror in Anna's voice was too much, and Elsa collapsed as she felt an arm wrap around her undeserving shoulders. Somehow they were lying in a snowdrift, or at least Anna was gently lowering her against one. Her wheelchair was gone. So was the urgent press of the magic. She turned, seeing frost and ice spiralling around the entire room in complex fractals. All of them led back to one point, a foot or so away.

Anna had been standing right there. Elsa turned to her sister, turmoil and horror warring with relief when she saw the silver-blue against her sister's skin. Anna was safe, but not unharmed. Elsa could see how her arm shivered in the moonlight. Then Anna rolled her shoulder and shook her arm, most of the frost falling away like rain. Her fingers touched the back of Elsa's palm, making the hairs on her arm stand up. She looked down, because Anna was tracing a strange pattern up her arm.

"You didn't hurt me," she said, matter-of-factly. "You didn't hurt you—unless, um, does cold magic hurt you?"

"No," Elsa replied, a little confused.

"Is it still okay to talk?"

"I–I think it's too late not to." Elsa sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around herself. "One of these days I'm going to hurt you, and I won't be able to undo it."

"I'm stronger than you think, you know," Anna sat next to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"I saw your back… I want know, and I don't want to know what they did to you. You're stronger than I'll ever be."

"And you're stronger than you think you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You are, but you don't have to be strong alone. Not ever again. I was strong for thirteen years, and so were you. I would have given anything to see you again, the real you."

"You shouldn't have had to!"

"And that's why I've been thinking recently… how different might things have been if mom and dad hadn't kept us apart?"

"I might have killed you… another accident that destroyed the family."

"But you had so much control—I never saw _anything_."

Elsa hung her head in shame, instinctively leaning in to her sister's shoulder. "It's because they never let you. Kai knew, for a long time I think, and possibly Gerda… but they could never let you know."

"Elsa?" Anna's voice was soft as she gently stroked her sister's hair. "Did you ever _play_ with your magic?"

"I—No. It was too dangerous. I never _wanted_ to use it. I wanted to _not_ have it happen."

"And what about now?"

"O–only when you pushed me, for your day. And when I rescued you I used it… but that wasn't play. I practice sometimes, letting it out, calling it back in."

"Did you ever think that might be the problem?"

"What?"

"You never played with your magic. You were always so afraid of it. You've only used it to serve a purpose. Did you ever trying making things that served no purpose? Did you ever try running experiments with it? Didn't you always love experiments? What about math… could you use math to help your magic? What if… is it possible to use too much of it? Like a fire running out of wood kind of thing? I mean, you've always had your magic, and you've been so afraid of it, but you don't even know what it is. You should. And… and I'm here to help you. I'll even be your guinea pig, if you need one. I won't let you hurt me, but I kinda want to know, maybe even more than you. I have this amazing sister, who can do amazing things, and we don't even know how or why. Shouldn't we find out?"

"We?"

"Come on, Elsa, you think I'd make you do this alone? You think I'd let you do it all alone?"

"No." Elsa managed to place an arm around her sister's shoulders, confident that for now she wasn't at risk of freezing anything. And Anna had a very good point too—she never had tried experimenting with her magic. But late in the evening, in a ballroom full of snow might not have been the best time to start those experiments. "Do we have to start now?"

"Wait, what?" Anna blinked, pulling her sister closer. "Of course not. Maybe… is tomorrow good for you? Do you think maybe you'll be less scared then?"

"Maybe…" Elsa knew her voice didn't sound very convincing, but she wasn't convinced herself that this would not go horribly wrong. And if it had been Gerhardt wanting to do experiments? She shivered. There was every chance that could go horribly _right_. Beyond his wildest dreams in the worst possible ways. No, any experiments they did would have to remain secret, just between her and Anna. And probably Kai, if he had to clean up afterwards.

Elsa wanted to clean up now, to remove the snow from the marble floor and return the room to its former splendour. She knew she couldn't do that alone.

"Anna?"

"Hmm?" The red haired princess cocked her head to look at her sister from a different angle.

"I need help, to clean this mess up," and she spread her arms wide, taking in the entire ballroom.

"Should I get a shovel?"

"I—what? No. I mean, I could thaw this, but I need your warmth."

"You don't have to ask for that, Elsa. I've been trying to give it to you, for so long now. And just 'cause you need my warmth, doesn't mean you don't have your own."

"What?"

"Look."

The snow was gone, drifts vanished, the floor clear everywhere except for the pile they were resting against. It was strange how much power Anna's faith in her gave her over her magic. She had to admit that it felt a lot better; far better than she had felt an hour ago. She was still tired, and hungry—she couldn't remember what dinner had been, only that she had merely picked at it, not really tasting anything. The entire evening seemed buried under a similar haze.

"Anna, will you help me to bed?"

"It is getting kinda late, isn't it?" Anna wrapped an arm around her sister's back, under her shoulders, and began to stand. "Can you make yourself another chai—oh, good. You're not as light as everyone thinks."

"Maybe _you're_ just not as strong as you think." And then Anna stuck out her tongue in a most unladylike manner, and Elsa just had to laugh. It was always the little things. Touches of normalcy. Bright sparks of fun. She didn't know what she would have done without her sister. It was, in fact, impossible to imagine a world without Anna. A world without her, easy, but without her sister… it couldn't be done. Not that her imagination hadn't taken her to those places where grievous harm had befallen Anna, but a world where Anna had never existed at all? Those worlds were impossible.

"E–Elsa?" Elsa stopped, turning to face her sister. "I know you asked me to tell you… about how it felt to die, and I told you I couldn't."

"I remember, Anna. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"B-but… I do. If… if I could tell someone else; only it wasn't you—would that be worse?"

Elsa's eyes narrowed, and anger flashed across her face. She tried to hold herself in check. This was Anna, and because it was her, there would be good reason for this. "I don't like where this is going, Anna."

"I don't either Elsa, but I was just thinking… I couldn't tell you what happened to me, but in the sauna, with Kristoff… it just kinda came out, and it felt natural, and he was so supportive and understanding and not that you aren't, but it's a lot harder to tell you, and I don't know why."

"Maybe you just love him more than me."

"That's not fair, Elsa!"

"I–I didn't mean it like that. I hope I didn't. I just meant… I don't know, actually. Am I jealous of what you have?"

"Are you actually asking me, right now?"

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" Elsa buried her growing blush beneath her hands.

"Yeah, you kinda did—and why should you be jealous, you've got Hank, right?"

"It's… not the same. Not like what we have—or what I want us to have that should never happen and… ugh. I'm still a mess. I _keep_ hurting you, even just with my words. Just leave me here so I don't insult you again."

"No." Anna's voice was the sternest Elsa had ever heard it. "You don't get to play that card anymore. We're going to your room, I'm putting you to bed nicely, and then I'm leaving—I mean, to sleep in my own bed, don't get any ideas about me moving out; you're not that lucky."

"I'm lucky you ever stayed."

"No, Elsa, I'm the lucky one. I'm lucky you chose to stay… all those years ago, on the tower balcony."

Elsa turned away, pushing herself into her room. She whispered something under her breath.

"I nearly didn't."


	64. Care & Concerns

**Trigger Warnings for dark themes, violence**

* * *

Hus av Strykejern was livelier than usual, most of that down to a single man, and his highly competitive if inebriated nature. Capitano Amado Ortiz, leader of the Spanish trade delegation, conqueror of the new world, master of a hundred tongues, exceptional storyteller, and dancer par excellence. Vanja Ostberg-Lang knew that only one of those facts was true, and it wasn't the one about his dancing. Everything else was gross exaggeration, but it was what made him fun while drunk. His stories always became vastly more entertaining in the retelling, his gestures grander, his deeds bolder, and his words louder and louder until he had the attention of the entire room. At which point he generally challenged them all to a drinking contest.

Which he lost, every time. But every time he came back for more, convinced he was more capable than he had ever been. Which was what made it so damnably entertaining when he keeled over, mid-sentence. Vanja smirked at her erstwhile drinking companion.

"Told you."

"It was as fast you said—but he made two more drinks by your last count."

It was then she noticed Søren's hand over her own, just resting against it. The second time he'd done it that night. She removed his hand and firmly placed it back against the table—outside her own little space. That was one of the interesting things, though. Whenever she extricated his hand, he didn't seem to be disappointed, more… calculating, but not the cold kind. It was like he was working up to something, but hadn't any idea how to go about it. She did, if it was what she thought it was.

It started with hands against hands. Innocent brushes of contact. Not that she was going to complain. Then something more prolonged, perhaps a holding of hands, or a touch against her shoulders. A hand against her cheek, eyes holding her gaze. A stray hair brushed from her face, and then—she snorted in disgust, slamming her mug against the table. Maybe she did like Søren, but not nearly that much. Not until he could prove himself, and she had no idea how he would manage that. No one ever had… but she'd never asked anyone to before, either.

She wasn't about to ask Søren. It would be easier to push him away if he overstepped. And he well might, but the idea of that left her feeling rather put out, because damn it, she did actually like the bastard. Well, he wasn't a bastard, not really in any sense of the word—unless it was for making her see what she didn't want to see about herself. For which she was far more an idiot than he was a bastard. Well, at least it was a man this time.

Needing something to do, she leaned sideways, poking at Amado's stomach with the toe of her boot. The Spaniard let out a contented snore. She sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, _I'm_ not moving him."

Søren leaned around behind her, putting a hand on the bench to steady himself, dangerously close to her backside. "He looks happy enough down there. Why not just leave him?"

"Why not," Vanja shrugged.

The council's advisor took another draught of her ale. If she drank enough, she might enjoy a dreamless night after making her way home. Of course Søren would probably try to escort her again, but she found herself wondering if that was actually a bad thing. She had walked him back to his workshop the other night, so maybe he'd just see it as repaying a favour. Nothing was going to happen under the eaves of her house either. But, if Søren managed to prove himself, then maybe, one day, she might let him—or she might take it upon herself to act. But all that was for the future, something not yet decided.

* * *

Kristoff patted Sven's flank, helping him bed down for the night. The castle stables were probably the finest place he'd ever slept. As the reindeer's breathing slowed and became even, Kristoff turned to leave. He was glad he hadn't had to find a new nose for Olaf. The snowman had been playing with Sven earlier in the day, and then something happened, and it looked like Sven had been about to eat the carrot that served as the diminutive snowman's nose. But then he had rushed over and spit it into the snowman's face. Olaf had said nothing about the drool.

It was Anna that had sent Olaf, and walking back to the castle, Kristoff's mind wandered around his girlfriend's troubles. Even calling her his girlfriend seemed strange, but she had to be, after what she had let him do. What she had been pushing him to do. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it himself, it was just… he thought he would have had to have worked much longer to earn that kind of trust. But maybe it wasn't that, maybe to Anna it wasn't actually rushing into anything. It was clear that whatever it was that had happened at the fort had changed her, in ways she didn't want to think about, or couldn't see herself.

He knew she didn't want to be changed, but it was too late for that. Life, sometimes, was about change. Not all change was good, but by the same token, neither was all change bad. She had lost some of her innocence, that was clear, the way she spoke of the things she'd done. She'd even admitted shooting someone with a crossbow. Insanity, but he doubted she would lie about something like that. Which meant, perhaps, she had killed someone. If she had, it would have shown her the fragility of life—something he well knew, because one mistake on the ice could easily be your last. Maybe her haste came from that sense of fragility, the idea that tomorrow was promised to no one.

That never stopped people planning for the future though, and neither was he immune to such thoughts. His life might end next time he ventured into the mountains, or he might live long enough to grow grey and old. Either way, there was at least one thing he knew. He wanted Anna to be a part of that life, just as much as he wanted to be part of hers. It was why the recent changes in her behaviour had been so concerning.

The castle door shut behind him, a small sally port from the keep to the stables, and he climbed the stairs to the second floor, where all the guest rooms lay. He had noticed Queen Elsa's bodyguard moving his effects into one of those rooms earlier in the day. He had also seen two slightly older men, both with red hair, and faces that reminded him of Hans. Kai had been with them, and from what he managed to learn afterwards, they were in fact Hans's older brothers. One of them was also responsible for sinking half of Weselton's fleet, so maybe that family actually had some redeeming features.

Thinking of family, he also needed to return to his own, in the Valley of the Living Rock. He was starting to feel a little disconnected from them, and he wanted to properly introduce Anna to them—although hopefully they wouldn't try and marry them again. For a _third_ time. He also wondered if Anna would actually be willing to go, given what had happened last time she met his family—though she really should have known better than to try the fungus beer. While summer remained, he had little else to do.

The door to his room closed, Kristoff kicked off his boots, stripping down to his undershorts and undershirt. He turned out the lamp above the bed, lying on the covers in a relaxing darkness. It felt more natural this way, though he would actually slip under the covers later, when it started to cool down. His mind began to wander. For once he didn't have to worry about money. He didn't particularly want any charity from the Queen, but it was nice not having to worry about whether or not he would have a roof over his head from day to day. Or food. Or hay and carrots for Sven.

No, with those worries taken care of, his mind turned to other people. It was strange, considering he had never really cared enough about another person to worry about them in his idle moments, but this was different. Anna, was different. She deserved his time, as much of it as he could spare. She needed to heal, to grow; and in so doing she would help those around her to do the same. She had already helped Queen Elsa, she was helping him, he had a feeling she might even have been helping the Queen's bodyguard too—though why that involved the guard tower he didn't actually know.

Most times his worries about other people came in the form of trying to get paid, or not getting abused for his taciturn nature. He sighed. It wasn't his fault people could be so greedy and demanding, wanting so much for so little. Didn't they understand how much better it was in the quiet of the mountains, with only the wind and the trees for company? And Sven. They'd been through some rough times; and some close calls, but they were still a team. They would continue to be until Sven had to retire—he wasn't exactly young anymore, but he still had a few years left.

He knew it was inevitable, but he didn't want it to be. Sven was much more than a pet, a mount, or a beast of burden—even if that was the way most people saw him. He was a loyal companion, and more friend than anyone Kristoff had ever known. Despite being an animal—or perhaps because of it—there were things he understood far better than any other person would. Like why it had been important to help Anna. Why it had been important to turn back. Why he had refused to back down until Kristoff actually went to return to Arendelle as the storm closed in.

Returning to save Anna—but she had refused to be rescued. In that moment she had decided that her sister's life was worth more than her own. She had run— _run_ —to intercept the blow intended for her sister. Hans's sword had carved so deeply into her arm, and so swiftly, that Kristoff had been terrified the blade just wouldn't stop—that Anna might have been sliced in half, not stopping the blade before it reached her sister's neck. But in that instant she had frozen to death. The sword shattered. Hans had been blasted backwards. Then Elsa had tried to stand, tried to embrace her sister. It had been painful to watch, and if he hadn't been filled with a desire to murder a certain prince at the moment, he wasn't sure what he would have done.

And now that seemed like the least of Anna's injuries. Losing an arm to an act of hate—while trying to save her sister seemed as nothing to the injuries she had suffered at the hands of Weselton's soldiers. They had hurt her, inflicted pain, and with no purpose except to break Elsa. Maybe that made it worse. They weren't torturing her to torture her, but to torture Elsa. It was as if she was nothing, reduced to a pawn in some terrible game. And he still didn't know the full extent of what those bastards had done.

He had seen the scars, of which Anna had not seemed at all self-conscious. She had told him, haltingly, as much as she could. As much as she dared? He could figure out a few things on his own, of course. Like the scars on her back—she had been whipped, and quite a number of lashes, but she hadn't broken. He'd seen it in her eyes, in the way she talked, in how she tried so hard to push past her problems. Those were not the marks of a broken woman. Perhaps a little dented, but definitely not broken. She was still scared of a few things, but she was fighting those too. If courage was what was going to define her—as it seemed to at that moment—then it was a courage without measure.

She'd even had the courage to reach out to him, to ask for his help, to almost demand he move their courtship forward. Very forward, and rather uncomfortably so. He wasn't sure if he had earned enough trust to actually be her boyfriend, but Queen Elsa had accepted his request to officially court Anna. After taking Anna aside for a brief talk—about what, he didn't know, but he wondered if it might have been something to do with not marrying people she'd only met that day. Maybe, but Anna seemed very well to have learned that lesson.

He still wanted to earn what he was being given so freely—but he suddenly had the idea that maybe he wasn't going to earn the privilege of seeing and touching his girlfriend like that. He was going to earn the privilege to _continue_ doing that. It wasn't something he could do just once, and then not worry about it. It was, perversely, quite like actual work. Of course the payoff here was much more enjoyable, and the actions to earn it wouldn't be so back-breaking, but he would be no less strenuous in his efforts. Anna deserved everything he could give her.

Shivering slightly, Kristoff figured it was time to actually get under the covers, pulling the blankets over his shoulders. The mattress was too soft, and the covers too heavy, but it was slowly getting easier to sleep in the castle. Four walls and a roof, but this was far more. He appreciated the comforts, but he doubted he would get used to them any time soon. He was far more comfortable living rough, on the road, or under the stars with his family. Here, really, it was just a place to sleep. He yawned, stretching out slightly. Far more comfortable.

* * *

Hank sat in the chair next to his new bed, a book resting in his lap, pages unread. The castle had a surprisingly extensive library. Not as grand as some, perhaps, but it still covered a broad range of subjects, and had fair number of romances and dramas, along with treatises, discourses, and scientific literature. There was also a very large section dedicated to arcana and other esoteric subjects based around magic. The accuracy of any of those works was disputable, but what was indisputable was the fact that magic existed. Elsa had magic. And if the tales from Corona were true, then princess Rapunzel had also had magic of some kind.

Hank was still undecided on whether magic, in general, was a good thing, a bad thing, or something neutral. He knew of only one person that could use magic to any extent, and she seemed utterly convinced magic was bad. Elsa thought she was cursed with magic, because so many bad things had happened because of it. It seemed she didn't often think of the good. Her ice palace—a grand structure he had yet to see—and Olaf. They were good. The glimpses he had seen of her playing with Anna, with snow falling around. Also good. But there was another good, one she clearly hadn't thought about.

One small act that had likely saved Anna's life. Because the story of the sisters went that as Anna thawed, blood had begun to stain the ice, her arm torn in half. A lot of blood—so much that if it had continued the Royal Princess would have died on the fjord. Elsa had reached out and frozen her sister's arm in an instant. The bleeding stopped, the damage was stayed. That her arm had been amputated later was beyond the point, and had nothing to do with the magic.

In fact, if he thought about it, Elsa's magic had saved Anna twice; first, by freezing her damaged arm to stop the bleeding; but more importantly, before that, being frozen saved her life when Hans's blade had shattered instead of carving her in half. That train of thought unfortunately led back to the fact that it was Elsa that had caused her to freeze in the first place, and the outing of Elsa's powers that had instigated the entire incident.

There were other incidents in Arendelle's history that could be attributed to the Queen's powers, a handful, starting some ten years past. The biggest, of course, had been that winter's night three years ago. Well, the storm had peaked that night, but it had raged for more than a week afterwards. Some of it—most of it, even—might well have been a regular winter storm. Then, combined with Elsa's powers and the fact she had learned her parents were dead… the blizzard had destroyed homes, damaged crops—and cost him his father. Hank sighed, Erik Solberg had been a good man, and he'd only wanted to do something nice for his son. Help him maybe impress a nice young lady.

Hank shook his head ruefully. If only his father could have seen him now, protector— _houscarl_ —of the Queen, and possibly something more. It was hard to fathom, but Elsa liked him, really liked him, and didn't care about how different they were, didn't care that he had no title, no noble station. Sometimes she seemed annoyed that he treated her differently because she had those things and he didn't. He couldn't help it, it was how he had been raised. It was politeness, propriety, and formality, and it was a large part of what had been expected of him, growing up in a family with no noble roots or notable lineage.

Even if there hadn't been such a gulf in their social status, he still would have been polite and deferential. It was how soldiers were supposed to act in civilized matters. But he was trying to change; for Elsa more than any other reason. There was also the fact that he had been _chosen_ to be her _houscarl_. He hadn't volunteered, she had chosen him, had seen something perhaps even he couldn't. Or maybe—just maybe—there had been that vital spark between them ever since that first chance meeting. He wasn't quite sure what that spark actually was, but without it he might never have fallen for the Queen, of all people.

It wasn't the mystery or majesty of her powers. It wasn't her clear vulnerabilities—those inspired his protective instincts. It wasn't her history that had really drawn him either. He sat there, just thinking. He couldn't say why he was falling for Elsa, but he was. It was a heady mix of many different things. On their own they were minor; trivialities. But together they added up to something wondrous. A sense of wonder—and there was one thing that would always trigger it for Queen Elsa.

Hank smiled. It hadn't been there at the start, because it wouldn't have been possible to see, but now… now it was easy. It was Anna. The way Elsa talked about her, acted around her, tried to include her, protected her, saved her, trusted her and more. It was that warmth he was drawn to, in the hopes that one day it might be shared with him—and also with the hope that he might manage to measure up against her warmth with his own, and reciprocate what was so strongly felt.

He didn't know what it was that blighted that warmth, that seemed to prey on Elsa's mind, more so than her concern for her sister. It was enough that she had asked him to protect her from _herself_. It had seemed a strange request, but Kai had been insistent. When he saw Elsa that night, sleeping fitfully in her bed, he had wondered just how much strength it had taken to reach out like that—to let another person see her at her worst. More—to trust that person enough to stop her from hurting herself in some way. He could think of only one other person that Elsa trusted to such a degree, and he still wondered why she hadn't called on her instead.

But Anna had her own problems, problems she was trying to solve through becoming some kind of warrior princess. Not that he disapproved exactly—because she had every justification for it—it just seemed so very odd. Then again, princess Anna was a little odd in her own special ways. It was what made her such an endearing spirit to be around. She was also surprisingly wise for her young years, and despite her being a little scatterbrained, he was tempted to call her brilliant. It seemed there was little she could not do if she put her mind to it.

It seemed her mind bent mostly towards helping Elsa, or discovering new mischief to become involved in. There were… stories… told by the castle staff. Most were dubious enough, but there was no way he was going to believe a princess managed to get an entire horse into the castle kitchens _by accident_ and then somehow proceed to get herself stuck _inside_ a stuffed bird. It sounded too much like a slapstick comedy to be true—but the castle staff maintained it was. Then again, there were some incidents with Sarah that he doubted anyone else would believe.

His mind was wandering, and Hank knew it was time to retire for the night. A good night's sleep and he would see things far more clearly in the morning. He ran a hand over his chin. He'd need to shave in the morning too. Just a little thing, but it was something that never changed. No matter where he slept, or how life changed, every few days he would take the time to shave properly. It was a constant he could control, and it was comforting to think that no matter what else happened, he could still make sure of one little thing.

There was another thing he could make sure of, something Elsa had asked him to try and do as often as possible, even if she seemed perfectly fine during the day. She had said to think of it as a new duty if it made it easier to perform. But she had made him promise to keep her safe, even from herself, and he planned to keep that promise. He placed the book on his nightstand and left the room. It was only a short walk to the stairs, and only one flight to reach the third floor, where the royal family always slept.

He knocked gently on Elsa's door. When no reply came through, he opened it quietly, peering into the room beyond. It was dark, but by the moonlight through the window he could make out Elsa's pale skin against the duvet atop the bed. She kept one arm out, not feeling the cold, and the other was clutching at her pillow. She was mumbling—or sobbing—but it was hard to tell, and Hank didn't want to intrude. She woke with a start, turning towards him.

"Hank?" her voice was faintly confused, and to his ears it also sounded very vulnerable.

"I came to make sure you were safe, your majesty, as you asked me to last night."

Elsa closed her eyes, mumbling as she drifted back to sleep. "Thank you."

She hadn't said 'don't go', but he'd heard it in her voice. It was a silent cry for help, reaching out again, and he was extending his hand, trying to pull her from the darkness trying to consume her. There was nothing for it, so he closed the door behind him and sat in the chair opposite her bed. He was already feeling quite tired, and this time he let himself doze, still alert to any immediate danger.

But there was no danger. No action. Only the sound of Elsa's breathing, and the occasional rustle of the sheets as she tossed and turned. It was more relaxing than he realized, and soon Hank was asleep, slouching slightly in the chair as he nodded off. For the second night in a row he was sleeping in the same room as the Queen. Not entirely by choice, but he would never abandon her while she was trapped within those dark places she sometimes went. He was also repaying a favour; how hers had been the first face he saw after waking when he had been injured protecting her. He knew that his might not have been the very first face she wanted to see, but it was better than waking up alone; wasn't it?

* * *

The blizzard howled and whined, snow flying in all directions, a chill wind cutting through to her bones. Anna looked down at her hands. It wasn't just the wind. She was shivering as her hands began turning blue. Literally blue. Ice—ice was spreading in lines and fractals up her palms and down her fingers. It was so cold. So cold that it _burned_. She was on the fjord, she could remember that much. Kristoff… she had to find Kristoff, he could break the curse.

But Elsa would never have cursed her, she could control her magic. Couldn't she? Anna clutched her hands together, putting them against her heart. It was so cold. So very cold. Every part of her was burning like fire. She was afraid that if she stopped moving the pain would be unbearable—but it already was. She tried to shout Kristoff's name, tried to make herself heard over the storm, but her voice was pathetically weak.

It had been stolen from her. That was it. But she'd got it back. She staggered forward, hearing something in the wind, a voice, calling her name. It was Elsa, and she was screaming. Something about swords, and staying away. Saving herself. Running before she got hurt too. But she couldn't run from Elsa, not now, not with all they'd been through. She turned, running towards where she thought her sister's voice was coming from. Ice burned in her veins as she moved. Her skin was freezing now, and she could hardly move, but she _had_ to get to Elsa. If she didn't, something terrible would happen.

Something in the wind changed, and she stumbled against the ice, falling hard enough to crack her jaw. The cracking sound spread, and dark lines appeared in the ice over the fjord. She tried to run but she was suddenly rooted to the spot, falling into the freezing waters beneath the ice. Something heavy was dragging her down, and she heard Elsa screaming for her to come back. There was a horrible, wet, hacking sound, and then utter silence. Something fell past her in the water. Elsa's head.

Anna screamed, feeling the ice clawing at her soul, driving daggers deep within her. It felt like the ice was trying to tear her apart, trying to drown her in its pain. She couldn't move anymore. She continued to fall, unable to even scream, drowning in pain, drowning beneath the fjord, her sister dead. How could Elsa have been dead? How could she live in a world without her sister? Her body spasmed, locked in place, and the darkness consumed her.

Ice covered every inch of skin, spreading, freezing, feeling as if she was being roasted alive. The cold _burned_. Inside she was numb. Pain spiked and flared, feeling as if she might explode, but everything turned white, and quiet, and empty. There was a great nothingness, a blank, and the world shifted. Something pushed her up against the underside of the fjord, trying to crush her against the ice. Then the water drained away, and she was staring at the empty sky. A white sky. Not from snow, or cloud, but because there was no colour at all.

She was lying in the whiteness, clothed in a white dress. Her skin was white. Her hair was white—she had to check her braids. Everything was white. Was this the end of the curse? Was she dead? Was Elsa dead? Was this all some dream? Her memory was fuzzy, but as she remembered Elsa's scream she fell to her knees, putting out her hands to support her. Hands—why should that seem strange? Didn't everyone have two hands? Not everyone, because she didn't. Something had happened—had it happened yet? Was this a memory? What was going on?

At least things didn't hurt anymore. She stood, awkwardly, rising with only one hand. It seemed wrong that it felt normal. She was standing on the fjord, completely frozen. Ships were shattered and jumbled against the pure white ice. Spikes of ice covered all of them, seeming to point away from… something. Even the ground sloped slightly towards that same thing. Arendelle's walls and houses seemed ominously hazy, and she was suddenly unsure of whether or not she should move on. Her curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she had to investigate what lay at the centre of the fjord.

She wished she hadn't, falling to her knees, retching. She could recognize Elsa's body—and only her body, because her head wasn't there. It was a gruesome sight, blood frozen mid-beat of her heart. It was a horrifying splash of colour in the endless white. What happened to whoever it was that had attacked her was even worse. The world had frozen as the ice tore him apart from the inside, splashes of red marring the ice. She could see bones, ribs, organs, muscle and then she was sick, again. She had to look away. It couldn't be real. There was no way it could have been real.

Further across the fjord she saw something that broke her heart. Kristoff, sprinting towards Elsa, towards her, she couldn't be sure. He was frozen, one foot on the ice, the other kicking off, sweat beading his icy face. All frozen. Anna dared to reach out to brush at his stray hairs. They snapped, and she fell backwards, scrabbling across the ice. It was too unreal. She had to get out of there, find a place to think. Maybe even try and wake up. If she was in a dream, she could wake herself, right?

But if what if it was a nightmare? She shivered, clambering up over the docks. Maybe someone in Arendelle had answers. But Arendelle had been leveled, razed. Only icy shadows remained of its buildings. Of its people, there was no sign. She didn't dare look inside any of the frozen shadows, what she saw could have been far, far worse than on the fjord. The castle… even that was gone, brickwork iced into oblivion, spikes of ice flying away from the fjord, frozen in time forever. Nothing.

The world was empty, and she was alone. There was nothing she could think of to do, nothing to bring her sister back, to bring Kristoff back, to restore the castle, to do… anything. Something flickered at the edge of her vision. She turned and found nothing. There was nothing alive in this world. In this frozen wasteland that was once her home. There was a visceral sense of wrongness, of something so obvious she shouldn't have missed it. The sun was shining from an empty sky, but the house in front of her had no shadow. Something else flickered at the edge of her vision. The house behind her had no shadows now either.

She turned, looking down and around. She was the only thing here with a shadow. The whiteness surrounding her had somehow become far more sinister. The lack of shadows made it worse. The flickering passed behind her, and she felt something rake at her hair—but there was no wind to move it. Her hair hadn't moved, but her shadow's had. Another flitting attack, and she ran. The shadows took form behind her. Human, but hollow, heartless, pursuing her relentlessly. There had to be something she could do. How could she fight shadows?

Fight? That was it. She slammed her fist against an icicle so hard it broke the skin over her knuckles. She turned and threw it like a spear, impaling one of the shadows. The darkness bubbled and seethed, falling into a pile of inky sludge. Shadowy fingers clawed at her, but they were still so far away from her. The sun was growing lower, and her own shadow was growing, turning this way and that, terrified of the darkness around it. She knew that if she lost her shadow, she would die. She had to find another weapon. The castle! The guard rooms. Where she had trained with Hank—who was Hank? No time, she needed that weapon. Anything to drive back the darkness.

She ran at the door, dropping her shoulder into the attack. The ice cracked and the door slammed open, spilling her into the darkness. Darkness crowded with shadows. Shadows that clawed at her as she passed, leaving red marks against her skin. They were already dragging her down, and she was suddenly very cold. She struggled forward, reaching for anything she could hold on to. A shield—enough to smack one shadow hard enough to stun it. She dragged herself forward, towards a rack of swords. Dark hands wrapped around her ankles, making her stumble.

She came to a moment later, a sword in her hand like a glowing brand. The shadows closed in, pressing their advantage, and she could feel their claws slashing at her skin, tearing her dress to ragged strips of cloth. It didn't matter—until one of them hit her side and she doubled over in pain. She was still hurt, from something she couldn't quite remember. She had to fight. She had to! To save Elsa. But Elsa was dead. Everyone was dead. She was… she was fighting ghosts. Ghosts and shadows that wanted her to join them in death.

No. There had to be a way to make things right; to restore the world to a time before. But there wasn't, and as her blade drove through the shadow trying to rush her, she saw her own past. A massive explosion, Kristoff thrown from the sled, captain Ragnar beside her. The hills were green and white, and there might have been a forest in the distance. The shadows rushed them, and Ragnar fought like a demon, managing to kill nearly a dozen of them before they dragged him down. Anna plunged her blade into the chest of a shadow attacking her, staggering when a memory hit her like a physical blow.

Her dagger had gone through that man's neck. He fell, the shadow fell, and he turned, but he had no face. Nothing, just a blank mask of flesh. The mask shifted slowly, and she could see platinum hair, held in a tight braid. Smooth skin, like porcelain. High cheekbones, and large, soulful eyes. Empty eyes. Her sister's empty eyes. The shadows surrounded them, dragging them back to the fjord. All the darkness seemed to come from Elsa's headless body, dragging everything down with it. She couldn't run, couldn't hide. It was like trying to climb and avalanche.

Elsa's shadow merged with her frozen body and she stumbled forward, dark magic surging out of control. Anna wanted to run in and hug her.

"Anna, Run!" but Anna could only run towards her sister. Nothing else mattered if they were together. "I can't control it."

"You can!" She had to shout to make herself heard of the tornado of ice and shadow.

The voice that answered her was sad, alone, and had a note of grim finality to it. "I can't—but I won't let it hurt you."

Anna screamed as she realized what was about to happen. The magic was swirling around Elsa, then towards her. She was drawing everything in on herself. Because she was still so dangerous in her own mind. She rose on a pillar of ice, trying to lift the storm above what was left of Arendelle, and Anna couldn't look away. She ran to her sister, leapt into the air to try and catch her, but it was too late. The magic imploded, everything collapsing into a single point, and in an instant it was gone. Just… gone. There was nothing left of Elsa, just a few scraps of icy fabric, melting against the cobbled path.

Anna stood on the docks, wind whipping through her copper and platinum hair. Arendelle bustled around her, lively as ever, but she felt numb, dead inside. Everyone she had ever loved was dead, frozen, torn apart, or just gone. She blinked back tears, unsure of where to go from here. Turning, she slipped on the wet planking of the jetty, falling into the fjord. Something was dragging her down, but she didn't have the energy to fight it anymore. She didn't want to die, but in this world, she didn't want to live anymore either. She gasped for breath, water filling her lungs. Maybe Elsa would be there when she died.

The world went black, and she awoke with a strangled cry, gasping for breath. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what had happened. She held her hands—hand—up in the moonlight. Only one. The scar around her wrist. Real things. Her bed. She scrabbled around, reaching under the bed. Her diary—the one she'd shared with Elsa, trying to talk for those long, long days. Definitely real. She let out a shaky breath. She was real. This was real. Elsa was safe, and it had only been a dream—a nightmare. But just checking on Elsa would still make her feel better; even if she might not be able to tell her exactly what happened.

She tiptoed through the halls of the castle, making her way to her sister's room. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open to look inside. Someone else was sleeping in Elsa's room, and Anna immediately balled her hand into a fist, determined to put out any intruder. She relaxed when she realized it was only Hank, and she turned to check on Elsa. Her sister lay on her side, mumbling, moving restlessly. Anna couldn't help herself; creeping forward, she placed a hand on Elsa's arm, and she stilled, smiling softly.

She wanted to just lie there, but come morning some awkward questions might be asked, and it was already complicated enough for Elsa as it was. She was also surprised that Hank hadn't reacted to her presence, but it was very, very late judging by the moon and the stars outside the window. She had to go back to her own room, but that didn't mean she couldn't try and brighten Elsa's dreams.

"I love you, and I always will," then she kissed Elsa's hair and retreated, leaving her sister to what she hoped were better dreams. Maybe they could talk about it in the morning.


	65. Limits

Søren woke early, despite the drink from the previous night. It was the weekend, and he had intended to sleep in, but something had jolted him awake, and he couldn't remember what it was. He was fully awake, and he felt very well rested. It felt wrong to be so energetic on a morning like this, but—ah, that was it. He had work to do, shaping the bone he had purchased, remembering the way Vanja's hands had fit inside his own. If this gift was going to work, it had to be perfect.

Bone wasn't like metal, and that was why he had purchased some from a stall on the docks. Whalebone, already cleaned. That same merchant had also had carved examples—scrimshaw—from many whaling expeditions. It had been fascinating, and a little intimidating—because how could his own efforts measure up to the mastery on display there? He was no artist, he was a craftsman, a blacksmith, and for a while longer, a father. A father honouring his son's dying wish. He would make things by which Konrad's memory would be preserved. Maybe if he made enough of those things, he might be able to save his son—but there was no time—and any bargain would be refused by Elsa.

She was not wrong in her actions, and part of him hated her for that. Konrad had been part of the mob trying to kill the Queen, and Søren knew that even if his son might have lost his nerve at the moment of truth, it was still no excuse for murder—or attempted regicide. It wasn't about whether or not Konrad could have done it, but about whether he was willing to, and he had been, he'd wanted to protect his father. Søren sighed, wishing for better times. Maybe those times were already past. Maybe trying to court Vanja was a futile gesture. Maybe he'd served his purpose in the world.

Those thoughts pestered him throughout breakfast, but once in his workshop, with tools in his hands, he lost himself in his work. That was his greatest asset as a smith—he could work on a piece as long as it took, and it would never bother him. It was merely a process, and whether it took seconds or hours for change to be visible, there would be change. And change was good. Giving form to chaos, bringing forth the art hidden in the metal—or in this case, the bone. Form and function, forever intertwined. Bone didn't work like metal, no hammering, chipping was dangerous and could ruin the piece. No heat, and so very easy to cut. Dust and powder, sanded from the surface so easily. Compared to metal it was soft and fragile, but there was beauty in it. It was art, and even his scrollwork seemed passable now. Polished, with ink of India in the graven lines.

Passable, but not perfect. The surface was mostly free of blemish, but the shape was… wrong. Søren knew how Vanja's hand had felt under his own, how it had felt when she had removed his hand. The emptiness around the bone felt wrong, out of shape. But, it was practice that made perfect. He had more bone to practice with, and more time. The steel, the blade, that would be easy. He needed more practice carving bone first, sanding, filing, carefully shaping the material. In time he would forge the blade and tang, then he would have to make a final bone handle, one with the most detailed carving he could manage.

He didn't hear the knocking at first, he was so absorbed with carving the face of the valkyrie—a face he just couldn't get right. It wasn't Vanja, but it had to be. The knocking sounded again. His workshop wasn't open on the weekend. Most places weren't, most store owners spent that time with their families, those that still had them. Another knock. Søren stood, annoyed at the interruption, but curious as to who it might have been. He opened the door.

"H–Hello, do you fix watches?" It was an older man, holding in his hand a very obviously broken pocket watch.

Søren was silent for a moment, assessing the damage, the likely difficulty of repair. The complexity of a watch was beyond him. With instruction, he might have managed, but horology was a special skill, moreso than even silversmithing. He couldn't fix it himself, but he could still help, especially with the dial and case. That was a simple repair, and a thin sheet of crystal glass—calling on another skill he lacked. But as the head of the guilds, he knew where he could find those who could fix those parts.

"We do, but it may take some time."

The man laughed heartily. "And where in my watch do you intend to put that time?"

It took Søren a minute to realize the joke, and he smiled, holding out his hands for the broken pieces of the watch. "We'll put that time where it belongs, so your watch can keep it again. How can we contact you when it's done?"

"I'll come back on Friday, do you think that will be long enough?"

"It should be." Søren smiled at the man. "And you should also be aware that we are not normally open on a Saturday."

"But you're here."

"Special project; this is on my own time."

"Ah, say no more." With that, the man left, leaving Søren with a very broken watch and a mildly confused expression.

Søren blinked, shaking his head. There was work to be done, and this time he wouldn't let it get buried under the paperwork of other projects. This time he would do better. It was only a little thing, but sometimes it was the smallest of things that held the greatest value. That was why Sylvi had taken both their rings to Valhalla with her, so that she would know, one day, he would join her. But now, if his current project worked, things might get more complicated. He hoped Sylvi would understand when they finally met again. He hoped she would be able to forgive him for not fighting harder for Konrad.

He would see his son again, one last time, after Bishop Gudbrand's sermon tomorrow. He would have to say his last goodbyes to his own son, while that son sat condemned in the castle dungeon. Tomorrow. Today, he would continue working. He set the broken watch aside, with a note on who he would need to contact to complete the repairs. Then he picked up his tools, and a fresh section of whalebone. While he worked, he wouldn't have to think of the future—even if it was working towards the future. But he still wasn't sure that coming future was the best of all options. What he suffered, what he lost; what he gained paled in comparison. Was it worth so much suffering? Was she worth it? She had to be. That was his only hope now.

* * *

Elsa woke slowly, her dreams clinging to her mind like a veil—but this time she didn't want to let go. She felt happy. In her dream she'd felt herself in her mother's arms. She remembered being very young, and her mother had been gently rocking her to sleep after she'd had a nightmare. At five her nightmares had been benign compared to her current dreams, but she couldn't even remember any, not even from her own dream. All she could remember was the fear, then feeling safe, cocooned in her mother's arms, and then the queen had leaned over to plant a kiss against her forehead. She had felt so loved, so appreciated, so _worthy_. She wiped away a tear, blinking slowly in the wan sunlight. It was just after dawn.

"Your majesty." Elsa whirled, trying to sit up in the sheets.

For a moment fear gripped her and she fought the urge to wall herself off. With her ice, or in other ways. It was only Hank, standing vigil over her during the night. She hadn't been able to ask this time—reaching out when she had less of the darkness around her seemed so much harder than when she'd had no hope at all. Yet somehow Hank had understood that she wanted him to stay. That she _needed_ him to stay. She wanted Anna more, but with what they'd talked about the previous night, she didn't want to concern Anna any further. She also had to admit, that yes, she did in fact like the idea that she might wake up even closer to her _houscarl_ one day.

There was also something he could help with, that might well make him very uncomfortable. For some reason that seemed like quite an attractive prospect for what was going to be a lazy weekend morning—a morning she had no doubt Anna would be sleeping right through. There were, of course, more practical reasons for enlisting Hank's help, but needling him with these small, necessary tasks was fun. Perhaps in the same sense of the word that Anna used when driving her to distraction—and now she could see why her sister did it. She wasn't quite sure what that meant, or what it said about them.

"Hank," Elsa carefully stifled a yawn. "Good morning. Seeing as you happen to be present in my chambers this morning, you can help me dress for the day."

"I can _what?_ " The sudden flush of colour across Hank's face was priceless, and exceedingly funny. He was going to have to learn to handle things in a more appropriate fashion, especially when it concerned her body, and his duties as her _houscarl_. Dressing, bathing, cleaning, and caring for her in the ways she herself could not. What was it that meant he couldn't see just how much she was willing to trust him? He had proved that trust was not misplaced when he saved her from the assassination attempt. And when he had come to her just the other day about accidentally striking Anna during their training. He was honest to a fault, an officer and a gentleman, unwilling to take advantage of her, even if maybe she wanted to be taken advantage of sometimes. At least a little bit.

What?

Elsa blinked, reviewing her internal monologue. Those might not have been her exact feelings, but she couldn't fault the truth beneath that statement. She wanted Hank for more than she could see on the surface. And maybe a little bit because he was so hard to get through to—and she realized that that might have been a mirror of her own situation with Anna. The only real difference being how willing Anna was to help—not that Hank was unwilling, she realized, more… uncertain of the situation. But she was sure she could find a way to motivate him.

"I could just wear one of my ice dresses, but I'm trying to limit how often I do that."

"Why?" Hank sounded genuinely curious. "Is it difficult to maintain the dress's shape and form?"

"No," Elsa shook her head. "I–I'm trying to save such special dresses for special occasions. The magic—my magic—seems to hold its form without needing my will sometimes. You recall I made a dress of ice on the North Mountain?"

"You related as much, certainly."

"That was all there was to it, Hank—I _made_ that dress. It held itself together, all through that time; the night, the next day, Hans capturing me, the blizzard on the fjord. The dress only disappeared when I willed it to go away."

"So if you made a dress now, it would last until you wanted to be rid of it—amazing. Yet despite the practicality of this notion, you wish not to create garments of ice, but to wear clothing made of normal fabrics," Hank paused, taking a deep breath. "And you want my help in presumably both selecting and donning these garments. I'm starting to wonder if you aren't just doing some of these things to embarrass your _houscarl_."

Elsa felt her cheeks flush, and hoped against hope that it didn't show against her pale skin. "I have said before that it was my intention for you to become more than just my _houscarl_ —the level of trust needed for some of the activities you must learn to help me with goes far beyond what would be expected of a professional servant. Even Gerda; but she has helped for so long because I had no one else to turn to. Now it's your turn."

She knew it wasn't fair, they had known each other only a few weeks, and their most significant interaction had been him saving her life. Elsa knew she had to change that, and not just for her own sake. She needed someone she could turn to that was _not_ Anna; not just for a differing opinion, but to allow Anna herself a great deal more freedom in her own life. A life she was fighting hard to get back on course, and… Well, _that_ was certainly an interesting idea.

She would teach Anna some of the techniques and knowledge required to rule a kingdom—and not just as a contingency plan in case something happened to her. It was to spend more time with Anna, to search out and build on what little shared experience they had. Most importantly, it was to show Anna how much she trusted her. She might even be able to convince her sister to handle some of her correspondence. She wanted Anna to feel wanted, to be needed, to know how much even just her presence was appreciated. Maybe it was time to dedicate another day to her. Perhaps the third Tuesday of every month—and Thursdays in odd lettered months. Elsa smiled. Anna would appreciate the inherent strangeness of such a custom.

Elsa shifted herself towards the edge of the bed, preparing to transfer herself to her chair.

"Hank, if you don't feel ready to help me, you'll need to find Gerda. It's an unfortunate truth that unless I choose to wear an ice dress, I require help for a task as simple as dressing myself." There was so much more she required help with; that she wanted Hank's help with, but one thing at a time. "When you return you may stay outside, if you wish—just realize that that is not helping either of us. I do understand your reticence, irritating as it may be currently, and I can sympathize—but by the same token I ask you to try to understand how difficult it is for me to reach out, for any kind of help."

"Your maj—Elsa; I can only guess what courage it took to reach out two nights prior, to ask that I protect you from your very self. Last night I heard in your voice—or at least I believe I heard—a quiet plea for me to stay. That I can grant you without difficulty, but what you are asking now, would it not be considered scandalous—a commoner helping royalty, and in such"—Hank frowned, clearly searching for the perfect word, but never seemed to find it—"such an intimate manner."

"You–you're concerned about me?" Elsa wondered aloud. "About my… reputation?"

Hank nodded slowly. "I am. You are known as fair and honest, with a heart full of affection. You are no crowned tyrant—and I doubt you are even capable of becoming one. I know you want my help—and I want to help, too—but I will not let you throw away your image in the public eye because of it. I will not be that man."

"Just how do you think this would become public knowledge?" Elsa gave her _houscarl_ a knowing smile. "We managed to keep my powers secret for thirteen _years_." Elsa fought a shiver at the memory, at the rush of memories about concealing; never showing her magic—and then never allowing herself to feel anything, because her emotions triggered her magic.

"And I know now how much that cost you. I'll go find Gerda." Hank's voice was laced with regret, and he sounded somewhat deflated, leaving Elsa feeling sorry for him and angry at herself as he walked out. Why was she so much better at hurting people? People she cared about. People she loved. She was meant to protect them. All she seemed to do was hurt people and drive them away—then they came back practically begging for her to do it again. What was it they could see in her that she could not see in herself?

* * *

Per Johanssen stepped to the right, his left hand flicking out, palm flat, rolling over the flat of Kai's blade. A risky but effective move, allowing him to bring his own sword up, inside the castle servant's guard. Kai was forced to step back, whipping his blade around into a half-swording grip. Per stepped closer. A little _gioco stretto_ old man—well, we'll see about that. Kai slipped his hand free, using his downturned blade for a rising strike as Per closed. Per deflected from the blow, wrapping his free arm around Kai's sword arm in a solid bind, bringing his own blade up to the other man's neck.

"Well played," Kai disengaged, offering his opponent a bow. "You certainly are back on form."

"Thank you, Kai." Per smiled, moving back to start. "I did indeed miss our fencing matches while I was ill—though we now know it was no natural illness."

"Quite unfortunate for Larsson that you survived," Kai offered a salute with his sword. "Worse that he managed to _anger_ the queen."

"And now he will hang for his crimes," Per returned the salute. "Along with the other traitors. Ready?"

"Go."

Kai struck first, a lightning yet tentative strike, falling from a high guard. Per stepped out of line, a half step back, a half step to the right. He followed the motion with a left hand feint, striking with the false edge, hoping Kai would attempt a deflection. He didn't, so Per stepped forward, rolling his hands to execute a powerful middle strike with the leading edge of his blade. Kai took a full step back, circling to the right bringing his blade around in a complex reverse strike, rolling his wrists so his sword tracked down and to his right. Per swung his blade around, barely stopping Kai's against his crossguard, robbing the fight of its momentum—but there had been no other option.

"A touch of desperation, Per?" The castle servant asked lightheartedly.

"Perhaps," Per rose, moving back to start, as Kai was already doing. This round went to the servant.

There were, of course, official rules that they could have used, but neither of them could be bothered finding any that suited both their styles. They'd been over it many times in the past, and simply decided that their rules worked better. Per smiled. This was one of his great pleasures, and had he not been a trader, he wondered often if he might not have been a duelist instead. It was only later in his life he'd discovered the joys of fencing against such able and sporting opponents, but he had to wonder what his life might have been like. What might have been, had he discovered his joy for fencing and structured combat earlier in his life?

"Tell me now," Kai spoke from his ready position, saluting again. "How are Synnøve and her three little nightmares—I mean children."

"They miss the times their grandfather's visits meant presents for all." Per saluted as he spoke, standing ready. "I am not as active in the world as I used to be."

"To sail once more?"

"Aye."

They commenced without a word, both noting the other's ready stance. Kai held his sword in a middle guard, out to his right, left foot leading. Per held his blade low, point down, leading with his right leg as well. _Chingiale_ , the Boar's Tusk. An excellent guard for counter-strikes and defensive actions. Sweeping his left foot forward, closing, Per kept his blade in line with his right leg. The Dragon's Tail, a guard suited to powerful offense, rolling lunges, and inviting attacks. But this time he would strike first, and fast.

Per swept his blade around, from trailing his right leg, to in line with his right shoulder, to level with his waist and pointing forwards. His right foot stepped forward, and his wrists rolled as he lunged straight for Kai's expansive belly. The castle servant dropped his blade against Per's, sweeping in close as Per was forced to evade, a swinging backstep that also brought his sword up into a high guard.

Kai pressed the attack, rolling his blade, feinting a tip strike with the false edge, and as Per stepped out of line he saw the castle servant's grip alter, flicking back for a reverse strike with the true edge of his blade. Per flicked his own blade down, slipping it just under the edge of Kai's sword before skipping from the steel and using the momentum from that deflection to drag the edge of his blade into the castle servant's portly midsection.

"One day, Per, you are going to tell me who taught you."

"I already told you, a Neopolitan swordmaster," Per smiled, he always enjoyed dancing around this topic. He'd never told anyone the exact truth of the matter, all vague titles and nondescript people. "You remember I was sent as an envoy to Naples, during '32?"

"And it was a street brawl. Or you were challenged outside an inn to meet upon the field of honour. Or you were taken in by a kindly merchant after being ambushed on the road." Kai smiled broadly. "Should I continue?"

"You missed attacked by pirates—and I still swear the man was dressed like Flynn Rider." Per saluted with his blade, and Kai followed suit.

"Storybooks." Kai stepped forward, blade held in a left high guard. He swung for a middle strike, and Per batted it aside, stepping back as he did so.

"Or perhaps Flynn Rider really was a reformed scoundrel." Per adopted a half-sword grip, point down. "Some of those accounts—by which I mean"—Kai attacked with a simple thrust, and Per rolled his blade around it, bringing the pommel of his sword dangerously close to Kai's head—"I mean the earliest ones—they could almost be true. Didn't hit you?"

Kai patted his balding head. "No. Your control is as fine as ever. I think I have to give you that point. Now the only 'Flynn Rider' in recent memory went by the rather unlikely name of Eugene Fitzherbert."

"Ah, Corona's prince consort." Per stepped back to his start position. "The comments Princess Rapunzel made about silverware make a lot more sense now."

"I met him briefly myself," Kai smiled, sheathing his blade and stepping back to start. "I think the scoundrel persona is just a veneer. I don't think he wants to be seen as reasonable and respectable. He'd rather be slightly infamous."

Per watched as the castle servant ran his eyes along the other weapons in the rack at the back of the room. He stepped closer as Kai replaced his longsword and withdrew a _zweihander_. That would certainly make things interesting. Deciding his current sword would be insufficient on its own, Per retrieved a buckler to use with his own sword. Both men moved to their start positions within the ring marked on the stone floor of the tower.

Kai took on a high guard, point down, circling the outside of the ring. Per entered with a high guard, left foot leading, sword point concealed by his buckler. A single second of misdirection was all that would be necessary. Kai attacked first, a diagonal strike, down and to the right. Per lashed out with his buckler, driving the blade away, spinning on his back foot as Kai flicked out with his left wrist for a reverse strike. The _zweihander's_ point slashed through the space Per had occupied an instant before.

Per adopted a middle guard, right foot leading, sword trailing, buckler held to advance. A defensive stance with obvious weaknesses. Too obvious, and Kai was a canny opponent, using a variant of the Dragon's Tail guard to launch a powerful lunging thrust. Per took the attack against his buckler, stepping in as Kai's back foot swept forward, his grip on the _zweihander_ reversing. Rubbing his stomach gently, Per stepped back to start. He was unhurt, but the strike had stung.

"Excellent back-hand, Kai. Surprisingly fast."

"I thought you might try and step inside my reach there," the castle servant smiled warmly. "I've noticed you prefer to use close-play against our larger weapons."

"Am I that predictable?"

"No. As I said, it seems a preference, not an absolute. I was concerned you might try an edge-strike with your buckler." Kai turned to look at the clock in the corner of the room. "I think we should retire briefly for some refreshments."

Per's stomach emitted a low growl, betraying his hunger. "Not at all an untoward idea. Fencing with you always has been a way to work up an appetite."

They were in a sitting room, enjoying some of the finest tea in Arendelle before their conversation began again, and they meandered over pleasantries and local rumour before moving on to more serious matters. Such as what the recent dustings of summer snow signified.

"The weather has been a little strange of late," Per fixed his gaze on the castle servant. He'd been in the meetings, he knew what the odd weather meant. He just wanted confirmation. "Should we be worried about our queen?"

"It should not overly concern you, minister Johanssen. Small—I guess we shall have to call them 'outbursts'—have not been uncommon, and Queen Elsa is under a great deal of stress in dealing with traitors, Weselton, visitors from the Southern Isles, and a slowly recovering sister. As the kindly person I know you are, you would perhaps be somewhat concerned, but know that the Queen is capable of handling this situation."

"I did not mean to imply that she was unfit in any way," Per was shocked by the thought. "But I thought it necessary to ask—she has become so reclusive; but understandably so, I presume, in helping her sister. I would guess she's as doting as Synnøve in that regard—though Princess Anna may be rather less terrifying than three young boys."

Kai shivered. "Do not tempt fate, Per. No one knows better than I what mischief the sisters were involved in during their youth."

"Mischief that may or may not have involved wintry magic." Per knew he was pushing the issue, at least a little, but it was likely at least a handful of the royal servants had known Elsa's secret—and been sworn to secrecy because of it. "Did you know, even then?"

"I knew enough to be concerned for a young girl suddenly shut off from the world." Per could see Kai trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. "Everyone had their suspicions. The usual, ranging from plagues to deviancies to punishment to preparation for an arranged marriage to some strange kingdom."

"Arranged marriage?" Per's eyebrows rose. "But why?"

"Only a suspicion, Per. The only serious offers came from the Southern Isles, and from a _princess_ in Assam."

"A princess?" Now that was more than intriguing enough to keep the conversation going. "The King and Queen were okay with that?"

"They had considered it for a time—never so far as sounding out Elsa's feelings—as Assam could be a very valuable ally, a bridge to the Orient for trading. In the end the offer was politely refused; along with all offers from the Southern Isles, and one from Prussia."

"The King and Queen did not consider it unusual for a princess to be making a request to marry another princess?"

"They certainly did; they thought it most unusual, and had me run through the customs of Assam to make sure it was not some elaborate joke. It was fascinating learning about the history of the kingdom there, and one day, if the Divine is willing, I shall visit it."

* * *

Shivering slightly, clutching at the covers of her bed, Anna jolted awake. There hadn't been any more nightmares, but she'd had trouble falling asleep again. It felt so wrong not to have had Elsa's arms around her to comfort her. Kristoff made her feel safe too, but she wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. He might well have been, but she didn't want to push things on him. She'd tried that recently and it had not ended well. He didn't want her rushing into things, and she had to respect that, because he was actually looking out for her, only trying to help.

The sun was high enough in the sky that she could wake up properly—some time in the middle of the morning. She yawned, stretching expansively as she stood. Drawing off her chemise she was forced to look closely at the scars on her right arm. What was left of it, anyway. They were much smaller now, only the smallest indentations where the thread had held her skin together over the stump of her arm. Doctor Arnesen had done the very best job he was capable of, and Anna could see that in the precision of his work. The other scars, around the stump, where her flesh had been cut free then sewn back together, she knew those would last much longer. They were that much deeper. Those scars didn't weigh on her mind—they had hurt, the pain had been excruciating before she passed out, but there had been purpose, and she knew it would end.

Compared to her arm, she realized, the scars on her back—even on her wrist—were nothing. They would heal, given time. They would fade, even if the memory didn't want to. But they'd had no purpose, those scars had only been inflicted to cause her pain. Worse, to cause Elsa pain, to try and control her. Anna shivered. The scars in her mind had to fade. She wanted Elsa's help, but couldn't ask for it—and while she appreciated Kristoff's help, she wasn't sure she could accept all of it. Maybe it was selfish, or maybe it was healing, but she wanted Elsa to have an active role in helping her heal, because if _Elsa_ could help her heal, then she'd see that she could do good herself. Actions always spoke louder than words.

Losing her arm was a scar that would never fade. There was nothing left, and nothing could give her back that hand—especially if Elsa wasn't willing to try using her magic on her. There was another option, of course, having studied the German knight that made his own replacement hand that could perform a surprisingly broad range of tasks. She knew she had the capability to make something similar. Or she might _find_ someone who could make something similar. The castle's craftsmen seemed like a good start.

People she hardly knew. The thought filled her with some trepidation. Would she even be able to talk to them? Would she have to run away again? What if she wrote things down? But then she wouldn't be able to explain what she wanted, describing things with her hands. Hand. Maybe she could do it another day. She nodded slowly, assuring herself it was safe to delay that particular venture. But there was something else she really wanted to explore, something dangerous and exhilarating, always involving her sister. They were going to practice magic—at least, Elsa was, and she would be there as a guide, as an anchor, to help her maintain focus.

Walking about her room, Anna pulled a few items from her wardrobe, selecting clothes that might be too warm for a late summer's day—but if she got her wish they would be very appropriate. If not, she could always change. And thinking about her sister's magic led to thinking about their parents, and exactly _why_ Elsa had never experimented with her powers. A very different image came to mind when she realized the double meaning behind the word experiment, thinking of some of her own. The thought alone was enough to send a scandalous chill down her spine.

If Elsa could make something as complex an ice palace, then surely something that simple would be child's play. She'd made icy statues of their parents, replete with clothes. Anna smiled, Elsa had even made a statue of her, in rather lighter clothing—a statue that was actually still in the castle somewhere. A statue that she absolutely could not use to play tricks on her sister, because damn it, but Elsa was more fragile than the ice in the statue. Anna cursed, struggling into her dress and cloak. She wished that Elsa could see the inherent humour of a ghostly voice coming from that statue, pretending to have been frozen—but life was unfair, and Anna would never do that to her sister. It would have been cruel—the same way those men at the fort had been.

The temptation had to be removed. Maybe as a first act she could ask Elsa to destroy—or melt, or thaw, or whatever it was she did—the statue. She wasn't sure about the symbolism of that though, or about what it might do to Elsa. Things were difficult to navigate sometimes, but she was trying. It was all she could do. It was better than wandering around the castle, wishing she felt safe enough to venture outside. To go as far as the overlook, and to tell her parents what she really thought of their plan to separate them ever since the accident. She honestly had no idea if her words would be strong enough to convey the depth of… betrayal? that she felt. She blinked, running through her emotions towards her parents, finding there was no single word that fit.

When she went to the Overlook, she had to make that sojourn alone, and she couldn't do that yet. Hidden dangers lurked outside, and maybe only imagined dangers, but they still scared her. More than she wanted to admit to her sister, to Kristoff, to anyone. She hadn't even confided anything in Gerda in a long time. Nor had she made the rounds of the castle servants—especially the kitchen—in order to feel normal. The kitchen was probably the best place to start, considering she felt quite famished. And chocolate, of course. As long as no one told Elsa—because she didn't know that Anna knew where the supposedly 'secret' stash of chocolate was hidden.

Anna threw her door open, almost colliding with Gerda, walking past with a small pile of laundry. Then she had the grace to trip and fall face first into Gerda's laundry, sending garments flying across the hall as she tried to arrest her downward momentum. The laundry pile hit the floor, but Anna stopped, firm hands bracing her shoulders.

"Your highness, you really should be more careful."

It took only an instant, for Anna could see the loving concern on the maid's face writ large in front of her. Staying silent would never help her—not just because she had problems with staying silent for extended periods either. She needed people. Needed to be around people. She'd tried so hard to manage that while remaining cloistered away within the castle all those years. Now she had to fight to be able to talk to anyone she did not already trust intimately. She threw herself at Gerda, wrapping the maid in very tight hug—perhaps even a little too tight.

"I missed you Gerda."

"We missed your presence too, your highness," Gerda leaned in closer to whisper in Anna's ear. "But we did not miss your evil schemes."

"My evil… oh, Gerda," Anna had to smile, ending their embrace. One plan. So many years ago, she'd written up directions for an 'evil scheme', based on something in a Flynn Rider book. That it had been only one of many attempts to reunite with her sister was beside the point. And anyway, back then she thought Elsa didn't like her, so 'evil' seemed like the right word. She hadn't known the meaning of irony back then—or the word itself, for that matter.

"Are you… are you okay, dear heart?"

"I'm getting better," Anna answered as honestly as she could. "But I still get scared of silly things sometimes. Like being left alone outside at night, or rope and sticks, or… maybe it's not so silly. Those men did try to use all of those to hurt me."

"What can we do to help?" Gerda asked, finally beginning to retrieve the laundry. Anna helped, unhooking a pale blue bustier from the knob of a drawer in a nearby side table. She needed to find Elsa. Wait, no. Breakfast first, then practice. Anna chided herself. Without sufficient food in her belly she tended to get sidetracked very easily.

"Breakfast."

"Would you like us to make you something?"

"I'll see the kitchen myself, Gerda," Anna gave the maid a sly grin. "I have a plan."

The head maid shuddered, nearly dropping the laundry all over again. Anna smiled warmly as Gerda departed, heading for the stairs. She headed for the stairs herself—the kitchen beckoned, and she was hungrier than she thought, her stomach rumbling in protest.

"And I bet Elsa's stomach never makes these noises." She looked around the deserted hallway, patting her stomach. Any further thought quickly became breakfast, leading her by the nose through the castle. The kitchens smelled of grains and spices, fresh fruit and loaves of bread. Elsa would have had breakfast hours ago, but that didn't mean they would be unable to share lunch—in a few hours time. In the meantime she took a small bunch of grapes, wandering the kitchen and watching the staff at work. She wouldn't dare demand—or even order—that they make her something, but it was taking a while to work up the courage to even ask politely.

Anna sighed, popping another grape in her mouth. Being scared of even talking sucked. She knew these people, to some extent, and couldn't even say hello. Why? She didn't realize it until she stepped out of the kitchen to catch her breath, the last few grapes from the cluster hanging limply in her hand. There were too many people. Six made for a crowded kitchen. The most she seemed able to deal with right now was four—four people she actually knew—or at most one person she didn't know as well. She cursed, _sotto voce_. She could do this. She pushed the door open with enough force to be noticed by the staff.

"I… breakfast?" her words sounded strangled but hopeful, and she immediately had to hide her face in her hand. There were few ways she could think of that that could have gone worse. She turned to leave, but felt someone tapping her shoulder. She fought down the urge to shy away. There was nothing untoward going on here. It was a kitchen, nothing more. The person was Kjellson, holding a large plate.

"Fruit, bread, cold cuts—duck and venison—cheese, and some mint and chocolate."

Anna gratefully took the plate, crossing to the dining room after thanking Kjellson. It was a better start to the day than she expected.


	66. Faith & Resolve

Elsa gently set the pen against her desk after signing the last revision to their trade agreement with Spain. The clipper would be able to leave the next morning—the captain had some unfinished business elsewhere in Arendelle, which trade minister Johanssen had explained was of a more personal nature and had no bearing on their trade deal. Shuffling the papers into a neat pile, Elsa reached for her drink.

It was a glass of tea punch, sweetened with a hint of peach. She wasn't sure how Kjellson had come across the recipe—at least, she thought it was Kjellson—but the drink itself was very refreshing. She also wondered what Anna might make of tea that had ice in it. She set the glass down again, empty, leaving it towards the edge of her desk. For a moment at least it had taken her mind off the work she had yet to do. Even with proper delegation, everything seemed to pile up if she was absent more than a day.

Maybe it wasn't that bad, but this past week she knew she'd been less focused on her work, on the responsibilities of running a kingdom effectively. She had good reason, of course, but that didn't make the paperwork go away. Neither did a constant stream of visitors knocking at the door to her office. This visitor she couldn't send away. Red hair. Fading scars. Bright eyes, and a dress that seemed far too warm for the last weeks of summer. Elsa watched as Anna's face fell when she saw how much there was still to be done.

"I guess you're busy right now," it wasn't quite sullen, but it was threaded with disappointment.

"Anna, wait," Elsa set the papers she was reading aside. "I can make time for you. Also, is there a reason you're wearing enough to trek up the North mountain?"

"You promised to show me your magic, remember?" Anna smiled, but Elsa shivered. It was much too dangerous. "You don't have to be afraid of it, Elsa; we'll work this out together."

Elsa took a deep breath, resting her hands against the surface of her desk, seeing the first shimmering of frost creep out from under them. It was dangerous to do this in so many ways, and she wasn't about to hurt Anna again, not with another accident. The problem was Anna had made a lot of good points the night before; about magic, about love, about their parents. About everything, really. About being her hero. And Elsa had to ask herself if it wasn't better to know exactly what her magic could do. It seemed so unpredictable, so wild, fluctuating in both power and finesse. Maybe… maybe if she approached this like a scientific experiment?

But she still had to keep Anna safe. She needed time to figure that part out.

"I want t—Is later okay?"

"Later," Anna nodded slowly. "I'm holding you to that, Snowflake."

"Snowflake?"

"…later." And Anna was out the door, leaving Elsa rather confused. She shook her head, retrieving the papers she had been studying earlier. She couldn't concentrate, trying to figure out a way to keep Anna safe that still somehow allowed her to be involved in their magical experiments. There was also the distracting idea that Anna had just given her a nickname. A permanent nickname? She wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

Glancing at the clock in the corner of her office, Elsa could see it was nearly noon. She had to eat, even if she wasn't very hungry. It wasn't anything to do with the dark thoughts that often plagued her, it was just that she was never a big eater—unlike her sister. Anna sometimes seemed to eat like it was going out of fashion. Elsa had a habit of leaving food on her plate, even from small portions. There was, however, also the fact that she usually ate more often than Anna too, with a regular morning and afternoon tea, and sometimes a light supper before bed.

Something she hadn't really managed a lot of recently—even if chocolate did count. But for now, a light lunch, and if she happened to run into Anna again, so much the better. They could talk, and maybe she could convince her sister that actively practicing magic was a bad idea—at least while there was someone else nearby that could get hurt. But she also knew Anna was unlikely to be dissuaded. In the long run that stubbornness had always proved valuable. Maybe it would again.

Elsa sighed, knowing her sister was willingly putting herself in danger; knowing that Anna knew what this doing to her. The ability to understand her magic was too tempting, and she was afraid Anna would once again pay the price for simply trying to help her sister. Yet Anna's faith in her was absolute. By her, Elsa knew she had done no wrong. It was always a lot harder to convince herself of that fact however. She shook her head, pushing herself away from her desk. Lunch first, then worry about convincing Anna this was all a bad idea.

Her thoughts wandered as she wheeled herself through the castle, moving purposefully towards the kitchen. The staff would likely have prepared a light meal, anticipating her arrival. If she didn't send Kai with messages about where and when lunch was—or with who—she always tried to make it to the kitchens by noon. The kitchen staff knew to stay away, as always. It was, she considered, a policy she might need to change. One or two of them were always unobtrusively available when she arrived, but she remembered seeing the hustle and bustle of the kitchen when she'd had that picnic in the courtyard with Anna.

It had seemed right, and normal. Both the kitchen's activity and the picnic. The picnic which had turned into a giant game of chess, which at the end devolved into absolute chaos. It had been fun though, even if she had cast herself as the villain, allowing Anna to be the heroine of the piece. Maybe that was the kind of magic Anna wanted to see. It might even be safe—it was only making ice sculptures, after all. Elsa found herself smiling at the memory. It was hard not to, remembering the look of joy on Anna's face during the snowball war at the end.

That was another kind of magic that might be safe. Just making snow, and throwing it at Anna. Like they'd done on the day that was meant to be hers, and she turned it into theirs. Nothing bad had happened then either—except Anna complaining about getting a foot of snow dumped on her for being naughty. Elsa smiled again, finally realizing that she had memories of using her magic around Anna that were neither heartbreaking nor terrifying. Even if they seemed like they belonged to a different person. Different people. And maybe they did, she mused. Anna suffered so very much, and I wasn't there for her enough.

"Actually, your majesty, I think you were." Elsa started at the hand placed against her shoulder. She'd come within an inch of freezing everything around her before she recognized the voice.

"Hank?"

"One advantage of living in the castle proper is that the food here is much better than in the guard barracks." He smiled at her, collecting several items as he strode around the kitchen. "May I accompany you on your lunch?"

"If there's enough on that plate for both us," Elsa waved towards him. "You might also help me in forming a plan to dissuade my sister from forcing me to experiment with my magic."

"That seems like a monumental task; from what you have told me, your majes—"—he must have caught the look she was giving him—"Elsa; it is nigh impossible to dissuade princess Anna from anything."

Elsa sighed heavily. Hank was right, but it was still hard to accept what Anna wanted to do—how dangerous it might really be. She had to bring back the memories of happier times, of a time when Anna had been safe. Safe, but so distant from her that she might as well have been a… statue. Elsa blinked, remembering the icy sculpture she'd made of her sister—how was less important, a slight blush rising to colour her cheeks—but it had been an act of creation unlike any other. Unconscious, without direction, her magic had belied both her deepest desires, and what she regarded as the vision of perfection.

She'd had no idea what to do with the statue—it hadn't been unmade like the statues of their parents—so she'd simply had Kai store it somewhere safe. But now… now it might prove to be a useful prop. How, she wasn't quite sure, but it seemed like a way to keep Anna involved, and yet keep her safe at the same time. That would have to do. She could discuss the finer points of the plan with Hank over a shared lunch.

It would be the first meal they shared informally. There had been dinners, and meetings, and there were also the times she had asked him to watch over her, but this would be the very first time they would just spend time together. It was suddenly overwhelming, and Elsa had to fight the urge to run away, to simply take off in her chair and forget lunch. But she liked Hank. She trusted him. He was her shield—and he had admitted that he was falling for her, romantically. She couldn't deny that something similar was pulling her towards him either.

She decided to take lunch in the conservatory, Hank following her around the castle at a respectful distance. She hoped the more natural setting would lend itself to easier conversation. Not so much. They ate in a silence that fell somewhere between awkward and companionable, neither seemingly willing to broach a neutral topic of conversation. Elsa sighed, fiddling with the cross around her neck. Why was what it that the simple things seemed so complicated, and the complicated seemed so simple?

"Hank?" He looked across the low table at her, but said nothing. "I realize this morning might have been a little too much for you to take in."

"Your majesty?"

"I mean, asking for your help to dress myself. It occurs to me that you likely have little enough experience of helping any woman dress herself, let alone one who can no longer stand on her own two feet. You have also asked why the services of the castle servants—or my sister—are insufficient to the task." Elsa took a deep breath, clasping her slightly shaky hands together. The temperature seemed to have dropped ever so slightly. "I—I do not wish to constantly burden my sister with my disability; she has been forced to learn responsibility far too quickly, and I wish to give her time to accept what has happened. To the topic of the castle servants, they are competent and capable as ever, but I wish for some measure of independence, small though it may be. In addition, should I need to travel, I need a person capable of seeing to those needs, and whose presence would not raise a scandal should it become known.

"I know you would suggest that Anna be that person, but if I am to travel far, by sea especially, I will not have her with me. Not after what happened to our parents. If I travel, she will be forced to stay—and if she wishes to travel, I will be forced to stay; though I doubt I will mind staying, I will always worry after her. She is, after all, the only family I have left."

"Queen Elsa, I cannot fault your reasoning on any point, but I ask that if you were to forbid her following you, would that not make Anna more likely to stow away on your ship?"

Elsa offered her _houscarl_ a gentle smile. "Why do you think I never traveled?"

"I always thought it had something to do with your magic."

Elsa sighed, turning away, rolling her eyes. Clearly he'd missed the implied joke, but then again, she hadn't tried that hard to make it funny. She just needed something to take her mind off Anna's plans for the afternoon. She still had to retrieve that statue too.

* * *

Anna paced the grand ballroom, wishing that this was not the place that held some of Elsa's worst memories. But they could work on fixing that together. She wanted Elsa to come to her so they could start exploring everything about her magic. Elsa had said 'later', but now Anna was starting to wonder if the tone had been less uncertain about timing, and more about actually going through with it at all. There was also the fact Elsa did have a kingdom to run. And the fact Anna had forgotten to leave her a note about where and when she wanted said experiments to take place.

Oops.

Olaf wandered through at that point, humming quietly to himself, apparently lost in thought. So much so that when he walked past a side table his body kept going and his head didn't notice for a full minute. Anna couldn't help but laugh, gently turning his body around so it returned to his head.

"Thanks, Anna. Not the best place to lose my head."

The diminutive snowman then wandered off into the castle, still humming the same tune. It was a jaunty tune, like his song about his desire to see summer. Anna hummed a few bars, but nothing came to her. She took off after Olaf, intending to ask him if he knew where Elsa was. Which would lead to a long string of questions along the lines of 'yeah, why?' from the little snowman as she explained what she wanted to him in exacting detail. Which, she realized, might not actually be a good idea, because she got the feeling he might have asked for a brother, or a cousin, or some other snow-person to talk to. Maybe it was best if she and Elsa kept this whole experiment thing between themselves.

She still had to find Elsa though. Doing magic experiments didn't work too well without the person that could actually _do_ the magic.

Setting off through the castle, she decided that if Elsa wasn't going to come to her—and maybe there was still lots of paperwork to finish—then she would go to Elsa. Her sister couldn't be that hard to find. And anyway, she knew the castle better than Elsa. The first place to check wouldn't be any secret hiding spot. It would have to be Elsa's office, because if she was doing queenly things, then that was where she was most likely to be.

Elsa was in her office, quietly arguing with prince Frederik, and his brother, the Southern Isles commander. Anna stopped with the door halfway open, slowly backing out. She couldn't talk to Elsa, not with Hans's brothers in the room. And much as she might have liked to have given them a piece of her mind, she couldn't do that either. There was also the fact that they weren't Hans, and might actually be good people. As much as anyone hailing from the Southern Isles could called be called 'good', anyway.

"Anna, wait, please," Elsa's voice cut right to her heart. "We're nearly finished."

Closing the door, Anna balled her hand into a fist. She'd heard the stress in Elsa's voice, understood how draining it was to try and be brave in front of other people. She knew Elsa must still have been sad—in the way she meant when she said it was sometimes easier to be sad. But she clearly felt well enough to make an effort at running her kingdom. Anna's mind wandered to the previous night, how Elsa had confessed to thinking that if her powers got out of control she'd turn them on herself. And when asked about talking about her powers, Anna remembered her sister's reply that it was too late not to.

She walked across to the small waiting room opposite Elsa's office, sitting on a plushly appointed armchair inside. Opposite her, Olaf wandered in and dragged himself up into another armchair, his flurry leaving snowflakes in a slightly damp trail across the floor.

"Hi Anna. You look worried. Wanna talk about it?"

"I am worried. About Elsa. I asked her something last night, and she said yes, but now I'm not so sure she meant it."

"I see, I see," Olaf's legs were idly swinging off the edge of the cushion. "So what did you ask her?"

"I asked about her powers."

"Oh." Olaf stilled, one twiggy hand scratching at where a chin might have been.

Anna was silent, hand in her lap, trying to figure out what to say next. Trying to figure out how much she could reveal to the little snowman without it somehow becoming a problem in the future. It really wasn't a lot. But maybe there was a way around it.

"I want to play with Elsa more. Just having fun, being sisters. Do you think that'd work?"

"Maaaybe," Olaf was nodding slowly. "Elsa's kind and warm and nice and maybe I'm not sure if she's actually fun. But she's kind and warm and nice and your sister so she has to be fun, too, right?"

"Right," Anna agreed absentmindedly. She wasn't sure where this conversation was going; then again, she was talking to an animated snowman. Made by her sister. On the North Mountain. She wasn't sure why that thought gave her pause. It wasn't the mountain, or the fact that Elsa had made him. It was the fact that he was _alive_. Was that something else she was afraid of? Was Elsa afraid her powers might make another snowman like Olaf? Anna shook her head. Another Olaf wouldn't be much of an—oh, Marshmallow. But if she had that power wouldn't it have been easier to make an army of them to rescue her from the fort, instead of bringing all those soldiers?

So then how were Olaf and Marshmallow alive? Did Elsa know—did she even _want_ to know? More questions, but maybe something that could be asked a lot later. A door slammed across the hall, and she could suddenly hear someone cursing softly in Danish. At least, it sounded like Danish. Soft footsteps faded into the distance, and then Elsa was at the door, guiding her chair through to stop in front of Anna.

"Hi Elsa!" Olaf waved enthusiastically from his chair. "We were just talking about how much fun you are to play with."

Anna was much more serious, noticing how tired her sister looked, the slightest sign of bags under her eyes, and the flyaway hair that refused to be tamed. The way she let her shoulders fall was another sign.

"I guess they weren't very nice after all," Anna offered her sister a wry smile as she spoke.

"They were perfectly civil," Elsa sighed heavily, her hands nervously clasping each other. "But you're right; they were not nice. Frederik has the pomp of an imperial monarch, and Nikolaus has the tact of a sailor—though given that he _is_ a sailor, I'm willing to forgive that one. However, people should still not be acting like they want to start a war in my kingdom!"

Anna winced, drawing back, noticing a second too late that Elsa's outburst was not anger, but extreme frustration. Olaf, sitting across from her, was gaping at Elsa in open-mouthed horror.

"War. War is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Very bad," Olaf jumped down from the chair, sprinting across the room only to be stopped by Elsa's outstretched arms.

"There is no war, Olaf. You'll be safe." Elsa turned to face Anna, putting Olaf down once more. "I would like to talk to Anna, in private."

"Oh, okay," the little snowman only sounded disappointed for a moment, cheering up when he thought of something to do. "Hey, I can go scare the big maid lady again. That was fun."

Then he was gone, leaving Elsa looking concerned and Anna trying to hide her mirth behind one hand. It wasn't really working. And she doubted Gerda would be scared—she hadn't mentioned anything about being frightened by Olaf in the past. And then she smiled, remembering all the times she would hide in various nooks and crannies around the castle, trying to scare Gerda. It had never worked—even when she'd pounced on her from the top shelf of an airing cupboard. Though sometimes she had played at pretending to be scared. Maybe she was just doing the same for Olaf.

"Anna?" Elsa's voice brought her thoughts back to the present.

"Yes?"

"I'm scared. I… I know I said later, and I mean to, but… I'm still scared of hurting you if I use my powers wrong, or too much, or if they get out of control, or…"

Anna watched, mesmerized, as snowflakes began to crystallize in mid-air. They weren't falling yet, but she knew they would be very soon. Just one small, outward sign that her sister was upset. But she could help—instantly. Anna all but threw herself at her sister, landing on her knees, sliding a little across the carpet. One arm was definitely more than enough to let Elsa know how she felt, and the warmth she wanted to share. She smiled softly, tenderly brushing some of the flyaways from Elsa's face. The snowflakes were gone.

"I know it's scary. I just don't want you to be scared of your amazing powers any more," Anna put on a mischievous grin for her sister. "Plus, maybe your magic doesn't know right from wrong because you still don't."

"What?" The look on Elsa's face was priceless.

"Okay, maybe you do; but you'll never be able to use your magic right if you can't figure out what's wrong first. That's how experiments work, right—I mean, you do stuff, and then change little things, and then check what worked?"

"In essence, yes," Elsa nodded slowly. "But these experiments could be dangerous. My magic is dangerous."

"And we can't make it not dangerous if you don't do this. Please, Elsa, for me?"

"Does it… does it have to be today?"

The tremor of fear in her sister's voice was so disheartening that Anna couldn't say anything for several minutes. She couldn't help feeling a little betrayed, because Elsa had said later, and that it was too late not to talk—but, on the other hand, she had never said anything about actually using magic. She hated that Elsa was so afraid of what it was that made her special—made her special above and beyond what already made her special and precious to Anna.

Sitting back on the floor, crossing her legs, Anna found herself staring into shimmering orbs of crystal blue. Fear. Anger. Loss. Love. All of those warred within, and she could see it just from the slight twitches of her sister's face. The way her eyes narrowed, or the set of her mouth. Little things. Crossing her arm over her chest, Anna spoke in the firmest but brightest tone she could manage.

"I'm not giving up on you."

There was a pregnant pause, after which Anna added: "I've got an idea."

* * *

Elsa looked around the room. Definitely the right place. The icy statue of her sister still stood in the far corner, the afternoon sun catching it through the window, making the entire figure burn with an inner fire. Anna cocked her head to the side, looking at the statue after seeing Elsa's expression of wonder.

"Are you okay with doing this?" Anna asked softly, giving her sister a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Honestly?" Elsa sighed at her own question. "No. I'm not. But you're right, I have to start somewhere. I'm not really happy with the symbolism inherent in this act though."

"Elsa, it's just one of those things where you have to let go. You can take your time; just know that I'm right here for you."

"You're too good for me. Even just standing over there, that statue of you is too good for me, so I have to say goodbye."

"You _know_ that's not what I meant."

"I… I know, Anna. I just… it would make… it's easier if I believe that. Just for now."

"Fine," Anna huffed imperiously. "But if you keep thinking like that I _will_ be beating some sense into you."

Elsa didn't answer, pushing her chair forward, resting both arms against the glassy surface of the statue. It looked so much like Anna. A vision of perfection, and an imperfect replica all the same. It wasn't Anna. It had two arms. It wasn't Anna. It didn't have that essential spark. It wasn't Anna. It was ice. It was what she _would_ have been. And if she'd done that to Anna, she didn't deserve a memory even half this good. She didn't deserve Anna. Or any of this, really. She didn't even want to be queen sometimes. She didn't deserve that title either. Queens didn't kill their own sisters. They weren't monsters.

Opening her eyes, unaware that she'd closed them, Elsa looked up to see the icy statue had frosted over, dulling the inner fire to nothingness, clouding the beauty of the form. It was only rough ice now. More like her, less like Anna. Less pure. And impure thoughts were not things sisters were supposed to talk about. Not like that, anyway. Sisters took care of each other. Sisters loved each other. Sisters listened, and made up. Mostly. They kept secret stashes. Diaries. Chocolates. Drawings. Anna had kept those drawings, not this lifeless statue.

It was not Anna, and it did not deserve to stay. It couldn't help them. It couldn't care for them. It could never love them. They both deserved better. They deserved… each other. Anna had said it, so stern and loving it had to be true. Even if Elsa couldn't always believe it, her sister was right. In this more than anything else. They deserved each other. Not crude facsimiles.

The statue was not Anna, but even as the snowflakes began to drift upward as it dissolved, Elsa felt lost—a loss, deep inside. As the rainbow patterns flickered all over the walls, the crystal snowflakes fluttered towards the sky, and silent tears ran one by one down her cheeks. She had to let go, but there was a binding pain in her chest—letting go _hurt_ , on a physical level. Hands pressing against her chest, taking long, shallow breaths, the last thing Elsa saw was her sister's mischievous smile dissolving into crystal snow.

She let out a deep breath, finally able to breathe again. Crystal snow drifted slowly in the air around her, not quite dispelled. A soft voice whispered past her ear, and she recognized Anna's quiet singing. It was breathtaking.

When you were standing in the wake of devastation  
When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown  
With the cataclysm raining down, insides crying save me now  
You were there, impossibly alone

Anna took a step forward, brushing aside the crystal snowflakes, very carefully taking one between her thumb and forefinger.

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?  
You build up hope, but failure's all you've known  
Remember all the sadness and frustration  
And let it go, let it go.

Elsa shivered at those words. Her words, and again, not her words. Context was everything—there was no way Anna could have known, and yet… she did.

And in a burst of light that blinded every angel  
As if the sky had blown the heavens into stars

Anna approached, slowly and surely, kneeling to place that single snowflake against Elsa's forehead like the gem of a tiara.

You felt the gravity of tempered grace,

And now Anna was behind her, wrapping her in a tight embrace…

Falling into empty space

…pulling her backwards, out of her chair.

Now I'm here to catch you in my arms

Anna giggled, kissing her sister on the cheek. Elsa let out a contented sigh, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted. Maybe it had. Maybe it was Anna's idea. Maybe it was Anna's spontaneity. Or how they lay sprawled out on the floor. Or that kiss. Or that she was _happy_. Or maybe it was just…

Anna.


	67. Minor Revelations

Anna lay back in the bath, thinking. Floating, really. The bath was just big enough for her to do that in. It was quiet, too, except for the occasional splash as she moved around. She was thinking about magic, about the future, about family, and about love. All of those wrapped up together into a tight, slightly confusing bundle when she thought of Elsa. All because her sister was worth so much more than she thought she was, and she wanted to show her that. Elsa had given her a day, and she'd turned that around to make the day not about herself, but about _them_. As sisters; as being better together; as equals, not with one greater than the other. In all honesty she could not recall a better day, and that bothered her.

Then again, she was still young, and had the best years of her life ahead of her. Years she planned to spend with her boyfriend—Kristoff—and years in which to make new memories. But the problem was the more time she spent with Kristoff, the less she would spend with Elsa. Elsa needed her, a lot, sometimes, and wanted her in ways that she shouldn't. Kristoff didn't _need_ her, but he wanted her, and she wanted him. Needed him, perhaps. She wondered if there was a way she might keep everyone happy, including herself.

Well, one way… She blushed. Naked, scrubbing herself down in the bath, and her mind wandered in the dirtiest of places. Well, of course that might keep everyone happy temporarily, but she had only one arm, Kristoff wasn't ready for that, and she had no idea if Elsa could feel anything down there. She needed a real plan. Maybe even some notes—written notes. She laughed inwardly. There was only so much she could manage on her own. But sometimes it was still more more than she thought possible.

Like convincing Elsa to destroy—dispel—the statue of her. An act of letting go; of acceptance. It was also somehow a beautiful goodbye, the statue dissolving from the ground up, turning into floating, crystalline snowflakes. Snowflakes only seen once before, just after she had kissed Elsa. Yet the statue breaking down into them made sense, for it had been created during an act of love and desire. Well, self-love, and in her bed. Anna blushed again. But of course it was her own fault for teasing her sister about things like that, and saying it was okay to fantasize.

Her own fantasies had always involved dashing princes, charming nobles, and occasionally Flynn Rider. She had no idea how it would work with another woman—what went where, so to speak—and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. Academically, it was intriguing, but not something she would do herself. Except… except once, with Elsa. Maybe. If that was what it took, that was what it took. She really wanted Elsa's first experience to be with Hank, and not just for the entertainment value of imagining his stuffy, upright posture in the bedroom. It was because it was quite obvious he cared for her, a lot, and Elsa cared for him in return. Even if Anna knew Elsa professed to liking her more.

She liked Kristoff more, though. More than Elsa, but also less. She frowned, trying to work it out, running the soap down her legs. It was a different kind of like—or love. There were _kinds_ of love; she could recall that much from her philosophy lessons. There was the love between married people—lovers—which was Eris, or, no, Eros. Greek. Then there was the love of family, between parents and children. Unconditional love. There was a fancy word for that one too. And was there another one? Something about the love for friends who you weren't courting and who weren't part of the family. A simpler kind of love.

That was it, she loved Elsa as family, but she loved Kristoff like she wanted to start a family. She smiled, wondering what it would be like to be a mother, but that smile faded when she recalled Elsa's fears from so long ago. Not just about magic, but about the fact that if she had a child, it could _kill_ her. Another heir to the throne that would be a complete orphan—though Anna knew if that unthinkable event happened, she would raise the child as if it were her own, and with whoever stayed. The future seemed very dark and complicated, looking that far ahead.

Even looking ahead just a few days it seemed unhappy—especially for Elsa. She had mentioned something about having to sentence someone to death… the son of someone important. Anna shuddered. This was something she did not want to think about. It cut a little too close to what had happened to her. Maybe those men at the fort only ever intended to torture her, but there were still times she had feared for her life. She frowned. Had she? Her fingers traced the small scar above her left breast. In that moment, before the bolt hit her, she hadn't been afraid. She had been full of fire and hatred. She had probably even killed Mikkel.

But she hadn't been afraid. The most fear she had felt was when they were going to take her hand—to cripple her completely. She looked at the slowly fading scar, wishing she had another hand to trace it with. She could still remember the cold fire of the steel blade plunged deep into her wrist. The hot, sticky blood running down her forearm as a boot pressed painfully into her chest. She could remember it as if she was there—but she was _not_ there, it was only a memory now.

It was only a memory.

She was proud of that. She had thought about it, the most terrifying experience of her life, and she had not expected to relive it. She hadn't relived it, except as a memory. Only a memory. It couldn't hurt her there. She was proud of that. It was strange that she never relived the amputation of her arm—it featured sometimes in dreams and nightmares, but she had never gone back in the same way as with her experiences at the fort. Even though the amputation had been more painful, had left her with deeper scars, there was no fear around it. Pain, but no fear.

Anna sighed, running her hand through her unbound hair. Harder to wash, but not impossible. If she really needed help Gerda was waiting outside the door to the bathroom. She was pretty sure she wouldn't need help. In the past she'd always tried to solve her own problems, her own way. She was still doing that, though occasionally she was applying that methodology to solving other people's problems too—or at least, some of Elsa's problems. After all, a problem shared was supposed to be a problem halved, and Elsa's problem was that she never seemed to have enough time to just be herself.

It might have been very easy to fix. So easy she'd completely overlooked it. Anna wore a wry smile as she thought of it—because she so often thought of herself as the spare, she hadn't really taken that well to lessons on royal duties. Even something as simple as responding to various correspondence. Something Elsa seemed to be doing ceaselessly, when she wasn't in some kind of meeting, or talking with the council, or listening to the people airing grievances. Or just generally worrying that she wasn't a good enough queen.

Anna knew she could help with most of those things. Well, maybe half of them. She was going to start by asking Elsa if she could help with the royal correspondence. Something simple, but something she should have been doing as the royal princess. She sighed. It had to happen eventually—her life could not have stayed so easy in any case, not that the last few weeks had been easy by any stretch of the imagination, but more that she hadn't had any concerns about the future, or her place in someone else's.

Ducking her head under the surface, eyes closed, Anna ran her hand through her hair, trying to work out all the shampoo and various tangles. She felt something looming over her, and she exploded from the water, spreading it across half the room, blinking to clear the water from her eyes. Looking around frantically she saw nothing. Nothing had changed, nothing had happened, and there was nothing there to cast a shadow across the bath. She closed her eyes, resting her head in her hand, taking deep, calming breaths.

The only way to get over it was to face it head on. She shrugged; it had worked for everything else so far. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let herself fall back under the water. Her hair still felt pretty tangled, so she set to fixing that. She felt the presence again, a vague threat, something she was afraid of for no particular reason. She fought to stay underwater, to finish the futile task of untangling her hair. It didn't work. But this time she didn't explode from the water.

Instead, her hand grabbed the edge of the bath, and she pulled herself up just enough to see out of the bath. Cold water running down her shoulders, she saw nothing. Nothing untoward. Towel. Nightclothes. Gaslamps. The cupboards, where all the salts and soaps and perfumes were. So why didn't she feel safe?

"Gerda?"

"Yes, your highness?" the head maid's voice came from the far side of the bathroom door.

"Come in. I… I think I may need some help after all," and now she was lying to Gerda. Wonderful. Sitting up, she closed her eyes and once more buried her face in her hand. Was it that hard to tell the truth?

Gerda strode to the side of the bath, rearranging the mats to have greater coverage. "Come now, Princess Anna, let's get you out of there."

And Anna felt strong hands pulling her from the bath, setting her up straight and gently correcting her posture. Then Gerda draped a towel over her shoulders and very carefully began to pat dry her savaged back. Anna just stood in silence, feeling the water running down her body to pool on the bath mats. She balled her hand into a fist. She couldn't stay silent forever.

"I–I got scared."

"Of what, dear heart?"

"I… I honestly don't know," Anna's shoulders fell as she admitted that, and she felt Gerda immediately squaring them.

"We'll have none of that. I know you, Princess Anna, I helped raise you from a babe. You do not scare easily, so it must have been something."

"But it wasn't. That's what's weird," Anna held her hand out trying to make a confused gesture. "I just put my head under to rinse my hair, and suddenly it felt like… I don't know… something… was there. In the room, I mean. But I looked. There was nothing, well not totally nothing, but I mean nothing had changed, nothing had moved, and it's really, really weird. Like maybe I'm going crazy, but I know I'm not."

"I am afraid I, too, am at a loss, your highness. The castle even lacks legends about being haunted, so we cannot blame restless spirits and their mischief—as you once tried to in your youth."

"Hey!" Anna crossed her arm over her chest. "That was a good plan. It only failed because _you_ saw me running away."

"Perhaps. And perhaps there is someone you can talk to about being scared of washing your hair."

"I said rinse—"

"I have _seen_ your hair of a morning, dear heart, and even _I_ would fear to wash that."

"You… you…" Anna laughed, turning and wrapping Gerda in a warm—and rather wet—hug. "Thank you."

"Well, at least I won't have to change before helping your sister bathe."

"And spoil your image as the most well presented of the castle's staff?"

"I will not have it heard of. Now hold still while I get the rest of the water you didn't put all over me off of you."

It didn't take long before they were done. Gerda asked one final question before leaving.

"Will you be alright, or should I send for someone else to assist Queen Elsa?"

"I think I'm okay," Anna nodded slowly, more to herself than to the head maid. "I'll be okay. You help Elsa for me."

"Yes, your highness. Always."

* * *

Hank stood at ease in the hallway outside Elsa's bedroom. She had asked him to be there tonight, and he was assuming it was for the same reason as on previous nights. Elsa was not yet in her room, though Hank was not concerned about that. She was currently in her adjoining bathroom, with Gerda. Something she wanted him to be able to help with, but for which he was not yet ready. He couldn't help her dress, either. In time, he would, but it was just not for now.

Elsa asked much of him, and Hank _wanted_ to help with everything she asked. Wanted to, but couldn't. At least not yet. He would be her _houscarl_ , and more, as she desired, but first he had to prove he was worthy of that role—to himself, if no one else. Just because he had been chosen didn't automatically make him worthy. It was a privilege he had to earn. Elsa was insisting it was a duty, in some ways, at least, to help someone who was no longer capable of performing those tasks themselves. Honestly, it was a surprising number of things, things he had often taken for granted.

Bathing was one example, but using the stairs was an even simpler one. Without her magic she would have needed someone to carry both her and her chair up and down every flight of stairs. And if that could not have been managed, she would have been restricted to a single floor of the castle at a time, or even permanently forced to stay on the ground floor. Something so very simple, but with consequences everywhere.

The door to Elsa's bedroom opened and closed, Gerda stepping out into the hallway. The castle's head maid said nothing, just gestured for Hank to enter as she left. He did so, quietly closing the door behind him.

Elsa sat in her chair next to the bed, hair unbound and falling over her shoulders. Her hands were clasped patiently in her lap, and she wore a smile halfway between patient and nervous. She wore a simple nightgown of pale blue, sleeveless, but with a high collar. She looked up as Hank moved closer.

"Starting small, right?" and she offered him a disarming smile. "I can put myself to bed if need be, but at the end of some days I feel so drained it is nearly impossible to move my arms, let alone the rest of body."

"You do not seem to be lacking that energy at this time."

"You're right, Hank, I'm not," she smiled again, beckoning him closer. "That was why I thought to make this request tonight—and it is just that, a request—because if you do not feel you are ready, you have no obligation to complete that request."

Hank frowned slightly. Elsa was being very accommodating of his social rectitude, and it seemed slightly odd given how she had in all seriousness asked something much more difficult of him that very same morning. Nothing had changed between them, though he did recall the conversation they had shared over lunch. Perhaps knowing him better had allowed her to temper her requests of him to something he was more likely to accept. Or maybe it was a test, secretly, and she wanted to know how far he might be willing to go. At what, of course, he had no idea, so best learn that first.

"I would hear your request before making my decision, your majes—" he clasped his hands together, taking a breath. "—before I decide."

Elsa let out a little cough, deliberately ignoring his slip, he was sure. "I would like for you to put me to bed tonight, Hank. That's all."

"That's all?" It certainly seemed simple enough, and there was very little that could possibly be misconstrued about their actions.

"Well, you might also kiss me goodnight." He could see the faint blush on Elsa's cheeks despite the lightness of her words. It seemed a little childish; but he could play along for her sake. And maybe for his own sake too.

"We'll see. First we have to get you into that bed." He looked at Elsa, sitting, waiting expectantly in her chair. It was only then that he considered the actual problem of moving Elsa from the chair to her bed. It seemed simple enough—an arm around her shoulders, and another at her knees, as one might carry a child to bed. It didn't seem the most dignified solution, but Elsa did seem to be waiting for him to do _something_.

He knelt beside her, placing his right arm behind her shoulders. She slipped her right arm behind his, as his left hand gathered the nightgown beneath her so it wouldn't get tangled. It felt like a revelation to be touching—holding—Elsa like that. Now he had to lift her and place her in the bed. He rose slowly, trying not to shake or overbalance as he set his feet apart on the carpet. He was thankful that Elsa had left her wheelchair at the head of the bed, so he need only take a single step to the left for it to be out of the way.

Taking a step forward, to the edge of the bed, he lowered her onto the covers. It was strange, the way her legs didn't respond to anything. They just fell straight as he removed his arm. It was a little disconcerting, actually. Touching someone where they could feel absolutely nothing. Touching a part of someone that only moved if it was acted on by an outside force. A soft voice intruded on his thoughts.

"Hank… Hank, what's wrong?"

"I—" but he couldn't tell her. Couldn't think of a way to phrase it properly. How odd he had just felt. Couldn't think of a way to say it that wasn't negative. So there was nothing to say. But somehow she knew.

"It's my legs, isn't it?"

He nodded, shamefaced.

"I guess not everyone can take something like that in their stride," there was a moment's silence, and then she spoke again, her voice a lot lower. "I didn't either. Not at first."

"It just feels so strange. I touched you, but you could never feel it. It seems wrong."

"It's okay, you don't have to walk on eggshells about it. I've had enough time to accept it; to move past it." Elsa dragged herself into a half-sitting position, putting another pillow behind her. Then she folded her legs. Hank watched, hovering between fascination and mild distress as she lifted first one leg, then the other, carefully setting them into place with her hands, smoothing her nightgown when she was done.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but it feels more unsettling to see _you_ do that."

"Why, Hank?" She wasn't angry, or upset. He was quite surprised by that. She was actually genuinely curious.

"I… I'm afraid I honestly don't know."

"You don't know, or you don't want to tell me because you're afraid of what I might say in return?" He could hear her gentle sigh. "I don't want any secrets between us, Hank."

"Neither do I, but… I don't know what it is. Just watching you move your legs like… like _things_ , is unsettling."

"Like I'm moving something that isn't supposed to be part of me?" Hank frowned. That was almost perfectly accurate. Almost.

"I think that is most of the reason, however, I would contend that it _is_ the fact they are still part of you that makes it unsettling. An unfeeling, unmoving part of you that cannot be healed."

"Maybe not unmoving. A while back Anna was fairly convinced I would walk again, somehow, using my magic." Elsa offered him an expansive shrug. "I just don't see how. And now we've figured out our little problem, do you think you could actually put me _under_ the covers this time?"

"I just watched you shuffle up the bed and fold your legs. I think you can manage that on your own…"

"I could." She fixed him with a pointed stare, and he felt his resolve beginning to melt under her gaze. "Could, but I would like for you to do it. I think it would be good for you."

"You're not… mad?"

"A little, yes, but I'm a lot happier that you were honest with me—even if you thought it might cost you." She let slip a small laugh of relief. "The only odd thing I find about this is that only now does it become unsettling to you."

"Well, this is honestly the first time I've touched you—as anything more than a professional acquaintance."

"Oh… so… you're getting cold feet?"

"No. Never. I just… didn't expect to feel that." He pulled the covers of the bed back, taking the sheets from beneath Elsa's folded legs. He reached out a tentative hand, then stalled. He felt a much smaller hand guiding his own, placing it against her calf. Her other hand took his free hand and placed it against her thigh. Both her hands rested atop his.

"Together. It _can't_ be unsettling, because I'm going to have to call on you to do this often—especially when it comes to dressing, bathing, and so forth. You'll be ready. Not yet, but you will be. Okay, now the other leg. Not so hard."

"It still feels strange, touching you, knowing you'll never be able to feel it; knowing you couldn't move even if you wanted to." And then he knew what it was that was really unsettling him. It wasn't Elsa, or her legs, or the fact she couldn't feel anything. It was only when he first touched her that it had begun percolating through his mind. She was unable to move her own legs—well, she could, to a fashion—so she had asked him to. She had given him something was quite unaccustomed to having over another person—let alone the ruler of his kingdom.

She had given him power.

Power over her, or at least one part of her body. A power that should never have been taken for granted. A power that should have been hers, and hers alone. That was what it was. She had given him dominion over her body, and he hadn't liked the feeling. Had felt it seemingly break the natural order of things. But now he understood what it was he'd felt, and why. He explained as much to her, pulling the covers over her, tucking her in.

"And do you know why you didn't like that feeling?" Elsa asked quietly, taking his hand in hers.

Hank shook his head slowly.

"Because you're a good man." Then she kissed his hand as a commoner might a lord's, smiling mischievously.


	68. The Last Goodbye

 

Elsa let out a quiet sigh, enjoying a light breakfast in the conservatory. She wished Anna was with her, but that was problematic because her feisty, red haired younger sister was still recovering from a great ordeal—though she was now making great progress. It was also problematic for the fact it was a weekend, and when Anna could get away with it, she would sleep until at least mid-morning on a weekend, if not noon. So instead of sharing food and light conversation with her sister, Elsa was sitting back in her chair, enjoying the early morning sun. Every now and then her right hand would go to her chest, and through the fabric of her bodice she would worry at the crucifix she wore.

It was Sunday. She planned to attend church—to hear a proper sermon—on this day. To properly observe her newfound faith. And perhaps also to ask the bishop a few questions afterwards, if he was amenable to such. Hank would be with her, in his official capacity as her _houscarl_ , available as moral support as well, should she need it. She might, she considered. It seemed a large step to take; to begin attending church again.

Like the rest of the royal family, she'd attended church regularly up until she was ten. She'd been less focused since eight, but by ten her faith had become so tenuous that single accident had snapped that slender thread. And if the Divine had turned his back on her, she had decided she would turn her back on him. The Norse gods were little help; praying at their shrines when she could safely leave her room had not helped either. She had lost all faith by thirteen, and the only thing keeping the darkness from swallowing her was the hope that her sister would keep trying to talk to her—even if she could never answer. Even if they could never see each other again. Even if she was always afraid of hurting her sister. Again.

She sighed, casting her eyes down. Anna would say she was unworthy of such thoughts. That it wouldn't be scary today, because she'd already been in the church for her coronation ceremony. Or that bishop Gudbrand was actually a very kindly person—but Anna couldn't know that, because she didn't know the bishop. Elsa let the thought be, idly chewing on a second piece of toast. She'd also had Brigitta make the tea punch again—apparently it was her recipe, not Kjellson's—and this time there were hints of honey and lemon, somehow becoming a soothing blend. She appreciated that, that even without knowing it the castle's staff were managing to soothe her nerves and temper her fears.

Breakfast didn't take long to finish, and then Elsa moved with purpose through the second floor, pushing herself along the carpeted halls until she found one particular door. She knocked once, twice, then lay her hands in her lap and waited. A short while later Hank emerged, wearing clothes that looked stiffly formal, and not very comfortable. He tugged gently at the collar several times before shrugging and finally undoing the top button of the shirt.

"Queen Elsa, I presume it is now time for us to head out?"

"It is. Was your breakfast sufficient?"

Hank nodded. "Now… well, should I be pushing your chair?" He frowned slightly, considering something. "Or would you prefer to move under your own strength?"

Elsa smiled up at him, turning back down the hall, motioning for him to fall into step behind her. "I would prefer to move under my own power as much as possible, Hank, but if I tire, I'll let you know, but the church is not far by any means."

* * *

Letting Hank hold the door for her, Elsa looked around as she entered the church. She frowned, because it seemed a lot smaller than she remembered. As a child, of course, it had seemed big—small compared to her home that was the castle—but large compared to her and to any other building. Now, somehow, it seemed reduced. The last time she had been here it was with Anna, and Kristoff, to appoint him as Arendelle's Ice Master and Deliverer. He had protested that it 'wasn't a thing'. He was right, of course. Elsa smiled, remembering his expression on finding out about the nonsense title he had been given. What had been unsaid was that she felt he wouldn't have accepted a true title, one with lands, and noble responsibilities to go with it.

Shaking her head, Elsa continued up the aisle, noting the faces of everyone she passed. The church was nearly full, and she could see the whole range of people from those still sleeping—and trying to hide it—to the nervous, the guilty, and the overly fidgeting children. And most of them looked as uncomfortable in their clothes as she was sure Hank felt in his. It was a very large number of people filling the church, and she suddenly wondered if being around so very many innocent bystanders was such a good idea.

The hand on her shoulder had icy fractals spiralling around it before she knew what was happening. Then little flakes of ice were dusted onto the floor and she felt the hand against her shoulder shift slightly as Hank knelt beside her.

"I guess even you get nervous in church," and he offered her a disarming smile. "I've always felt oddly guilty within these walls, on those odd occasions I've attended the sermons, that is."

"I am nervous—there's so many people, and I know they know, but I don't want to slip. I don't want to keep reminding them of my cur—my powers."

Hank leaned in closer, whispering in her ear. "Truth be told, your majesty, I am sure there are some here who would not mind terribly should the church be suddenly buried under a hundred feet of snow."

"Hank!" Elsa hissed, trying not to be heard as she admonished her _houscarl_.

"Also, where are you going to sit—or will you leave your chair in the aisle and sit there?"

" _We_ "—Elsa stressed the word—"are going to sit right here, Hank. Now just like last night you're going to take me from my chair, then place me in the pew."

"I—Are you sure?" Hank spoke softly, not wanting to be overhead. "We—you and I—won't be frowned upon for this?"

"It's not improper Hank," Elsa spoke softly in reply, a hint of sadness and resignation in her voice. "Everyone knows that their queen is a cripple. They all know that I need help. I'm not sure how many would be _willing_ to help me, but they know it's needed. They need not know anything else about us, but for the fact I choose to let you help me."

"Then it would be my privilege to assist you," Hank spoke formally, his tone having just a hint of self-deprecation. He placed his left arm at Elsa's back, waiting for her to slip her left arm behind it, such that she could not fall from his arms. Then he placed his right arm under her knees, gathering the folds of her dress. Elsa felt herself being placed gently in the sitting position at the end of the pew, a few rows from the front of the church. With subtle wave she dispelled her chair, and from somewhere nearby came a soft gasp of surprise.

As Hank sat somewhat stiffly on her left she placed her hands demurely in her lap and looked up at the lectern, waiting for bishop Gudbrand to appear and begin the sermon. A handful of Arendelle's somewhat less devout townsfolk were still filtering through the doors, quietly taking their seats as the bishop moved forward, a leather bound book in his hands.

* * *

Finishing his sermon, bishop Gudbrand smiled. It had been a good sermon, about the values of forgiveness and holding moral fibre despite extreme adversity. It had also been surprising to see Queen Elsa in the congregation, some rows back from the place of honour where the royal family once used to sit. She also had her bodyguard with her—though why she might need such protection in the house of the Divine he was unsure. Until he saw the man—Erikson, he now recalled—helping Elsa from her seated position into a newly conjured wheelchair.

Gudbrand blinked. Magic. In his church. He let out a deep breath. Yes, it was shocking. Yes, it went against his grain. But there was the question of how else she might have moved without it. It would have been undignified to be carried out, and he knew she would not put upon her people even that minor inconvenience. She would solve her problems her way.

"Bishop Gudbrand?" She called respectfully from the aisle, approaching the altar.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Can we talk?" He could hear the trepidation in her voice. "I have to tell you something; and to ask forgiveness for it."

"I see my sermon was effective not just on the laity then," Gudbrand smiled warmly, holding a hand out to indicate the path which he would be following. "Perhaps it would be better if we spoke in the chapel's annex. I have a selection of teas, and some savoury crackers. We don't have much else in the way of food unless you would like to walk the town."

"Tea will be fine, thank you. A chamomile blend if you have it."

"We do," Gudbrand affirmed, leading them to the annex and taking a seat behind his desk. Elsa pulled her chair up to the front of the desk, while Erikson took his leave and stood outside after a brief word from the queen. There was silence while the tea was being served, and only when they had both placed their cups down did Gudbrand talk, knowing the possible import of the moment.

"You said that you must ask forgiveness for something?"

"I did—but I'm also afraid, because of the way you first reacted, when I told you of Olaf's creation."

"You… you're asking forgiveness for having created your snowman?"

"The breath of life is not a toy—and you have said it may have been the hand of the Divine that sparked life within Olaf. I… I would quite like you to have been right."

"Why?" Gudbrand was a little confused, but also certain that they were dancing around some other issue—something Queen Elsa was not yet ready to speak of. Not until she knew how he was likely to react. And she had brought up the point of his reaction to the discovery of Olaf's life. It wasn't possible that there was another, was it?

"Because if it was not the Divine that breathed life into Olaf, then it was _me_. _I_ gave him life. I don't know _how_. I don't know if it means I _lost_ something for doing so. If it was me… I… I should never have such power. It would be too much. No one should have that power. Yet, I find myself afraid to find out, for better or worse, which is the truth. My sister insists I practice my magic, to refine my control; to discover its limits. We would experiment with it… but… what if the power to give life _does_ exist in me? What do I _do?_ "

Bishop Gudbrand let out a shaky breath. This was exactly the kind of theological problem he hoped never to be confronted with. Of course, before he knew about magic it hadn't been a problem because it was, frankly, impossible. But now… apparently the rules had changed. There was also another, deeper question. Elsa's creation had life, it had a mind. But created by the Divine, or by her own hand, he could not answer whether or not that life also had a soul. It was like the questions sometimes asked by sad or confused children, about where their dead pets had gone.

Animals did not have souls. That led to the question of what Olaf was—animal, or… and here human did not seem the right word. It might do him good to actually meet, formally, the snowman Queen Elsa had created. It would certainly do little harm. But harder to discern was the answer to the queen's question; especially if she turned out to be right about her powers. She had spoken of experiments; of treating the arcane with the scientific method. And perhaps that was in fact for the best—he would not hear it done to religion, but Gudbrand couldn't fault Queen Elsa's idea for discovering the full extent of her powers in order to keep tighter rein on them.

"Your majesty, if I may?" Gudbrand phrased his reply as formally as possible. At a nod from the queen he continued. "I am fairly disturbed by the idea that your powers may extend so far as to give you an ability that should belong only to the Divine. We are not the Divine, though we are made in his image. Many hold that we are base and fallen creatures, but I think we have been saved; we have regained some of our former nobility and strength. We are greater for how we help those around us. Those are certainly aspects we share with the Divine.

"Man is allowed an act of creation, of course—more proof of the Divine—the act of procreation, wherein new life shall brought into the world. But your powers, the idea that they could do the same, in some way, is… unnatural. I once called you an abomination, and I tried to apologize for my reaction with the crucifix I gave you. I–I will never use that word again. I did not know the full story. I do not, and it is your prerogative who to tell and who not to. But if you are right, and this power is yours, I will be unafraid."

Gudbrand noticed the queen's frown as she spoke, the way her eyes narrowed in concern and consternation. "Why—why would you be unafraid?"

"Because, your majesty, you know and respect the sanctity of life, and the weight of responsibility it would place upon your shoulders. You know it is more than a power, more than magic, more than a gift. You know of its divinity, and I know—deep in my soul, I know—that you would never, never abuse such power. I appreciate you asking to talk with me, and explaining your problem—and I hope my words have helped, but there is one thing I do not understand."

"Which was what, bishop Gudbrand?"

"Why you would need to ask forgiveness for any of this."

The queen took a deep breath, worrying at the crucifix beneath her dress. Then she wrung her hands, placing them in her lap, taking another breath, apprehension clearly visible behind her eyes. She was scared. Very much so. Gudbrand schooled his features into what he hoped would be a kindly expression to her, then placed both hands against the table, leaning forward slightly. When the queen spoke again his composure was ruined instantly, shock greying his face as the queen let out a very shaky breath, avoiding his gaze.

"Olaf is not the only one."

Gudbrand finally managed to inhale, his breath ragged. "How–how many?"

"Just… just one more, but…it—he—was different."

"In what way, your majesty?"

The queen looked aside, hanging her head in shame. "He really was a monster."

"You know this for sure?"

"He threw Anna from my palace. Kristoff too. Chased them off. He fought the royal guards during the siege. I–I don't know if he actually hurt anyone, but it seems likely. I don't know if he survived the siege either… it's all a little fuzzy after I was knocked out. I don't think he survived, if those men made it in to attack me, but he was made of snow, so I guess it's possible he survived."

Gudbrand was speechless. He had no idea what to say, all his years in the clergy seeming to fail him at that moment. Queen Elsa seemed sad and wistful when she spoke of this other creation; but there was a strange sense of relief whenever she mentioned that he, or it, might not have survived. It was as if she were frightened of it—or perhaps ashamed. Such a creature must have been very unnatural, so much like… and then he knew the creature of which the queen spoke, because several of the royal guard had sought his help in trying to identify it, to put it away; to make sure it stayed dead.

But the way the soldiers had spoken of it, dread in their voices, seemed heavily at odds with the way Queen Elsa was describing the creature. Violent, and monstrous in aspect, but it had harmed no one—at least, not to any real degree. Until Prince Hans had severed its leg, and it had struck back while falling, nearly taking him with it. Then again, knowing who Hans really was, maybe the creature had somehow known before he was unmasked. It was said that animals could sense evil, so perhaps it was that. Or perhaps the creature had lashed out in pain or anger at being genuinely hurt. Many animals would do the same, and many of them became far more dangerous than if they were healthy. Vanja Ostberg-Lang had shared several stories on that count, showing the scars to prove it.

Another point the soldiers had made struck him—they had said the creature was actively trying to block their access to the ice palace. Was it possible, he supposed, that the creature was serving as a dark protector to the queen? It was possible, but he did not want to judge the creature based on second-hand reports. Conflicting ones, at that. Hanne, of course, would have loved it. Sorting through conflicting reports for the truth was his stock in trade as Justicar.

And this—whatever the creature was or had been—was what the queen sought forgiveness for. She was confused and apprehensive. Lost, perhaps; unable to see a clear path forward. But was it not the duty of the faithful to serve as guides to those who had lost their way? To help up those who had stumbled? To urge those that had strayed to return to the light? After all she had been through, he considered, the queen's faith must have been such a fragile thing. Yet she still bore the burden of her past with as much grace and dignity as she could manage. She was afraid of the outcome, yet she had the courage to speak openly of such transgressions, to ask forgiveness for actions that were not her own, but that she saw herself as responsible for.

"You wish to be forgiven; for whatever this… creature… of yours may have wrought?"

"I do," the queen's voice was a pale whisper, as if she didn't believe she would ever be forgiven—as if the chance had vanished as soon as she had broached the topic, but still she had had to ask. She had to have hope, and Gudbrand knew he would be the one to give it to her.

"Queen Elsa, by the word of the Divine, I forgive you."

And Gudbrand was surprised to see snow dancing in his office, slowly swirling about before vanishing in mid-air. It seemed to flurry with abandon, but he soon saw a pattern. The snow moved and flowed like a breath on a cold winter's day. Exactly in time with the queen's now even breaths. Her eyes were closed, and when she opened them she took one more breath, and suddenly the snow vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Thank you, bishop Gudbrand," Elsa held tight to the crucifix beneath her dress. "That means more to me than you might think." She took another breath, her voice firm and steady once more. "I hope to see you again at tomorrow's council meeting."

"Certainly, your majesty. Would you like another cup of tea before you leave?"

"No, thank you," then Elsa smiled, and suddenly he was seeing her as a young woman who had been sorely in need of hope, not the monarch who struggled to rule a kingdom she had been left to rule at too early an age. The queen was a person too, beneath everything, and like all people, she would sometimes require reassurance. Faith was an act of trust in something greater than oneself, and Gudbrand knew where his faith lay—where he hoped his queen's faith lay also. As Queen Elsa left his office, pausing to speak with her bodyguard, Gudbrand smiled, hoping that one day he might see his reward for having lived a faithful life; leading those who needed Him to the path of the Divine.

* * *

Søren sat stiffly on the stone bench opposite the one his son used for a bed. There was no need for formality anymore. No reason to waste their time with it.

"Konrad, I–I've made it so I can never forget about you again."

"Again," Konrad scoffed, turning away. "Like you'll get a chance to forget me again after this."

"Sørenson Mechanical."

"You… that's…" Konrad continued staring at the floor, but his voice was lighter. "Maybe you did, after all."

Søren stared at the stones of the floor, not knowing what else to say; not knowing what to do. Konrad sat in silence across from him, unmoving. There was a strange tension crackling in the air. Konrad shifted, and Søren watched as a new fire was kindled behind his son's eyes. There was great strength and determination there, but it had been put to ill use before.

"You're a smith, you could make me something."

"Grave goods?" Søren choked out.

"No," Konrad leaned closer, lowering his voice so the distant guards wouldn't hear them. "A key. A knife. Anything. I would do anything for it. I can't die. Not here. Not like this. I'll run away, no one has to know. I could start a new life—they want bakers everywhere. It doesn't even have to be anything big, just enough that I can get away. I could just live in the wilds somewhere. It doesn't matter where—I'd do anything to—"

"But I won't." Søren shook his head sadly. "If I did that… I couldn't. I can't betray Elsa like that. The council. The guilds. They still need me."

"But can't you see I need you _more?_ " Konrad's voice dug a knife deep into his heart. Søren had no reply for that. It was too true, and too hurtful to answer to. He couldn't be there for his own son when he needed him the most, because he hadn't been there when Konrad had needed him in the past. It wasn't fair to either of them, he knew, but he'd made his best effort at being a good father. His best just hadn't been good enough.

"Please, dad, help me. I have to get out of here."

Søren closed his eyes, turning away. He couldn't do it, and he couldn't bear to see the pain in his son's eyes when he denied his wants. He wished the young man opposite him was someone he didn't know. Someone he'd never cared for. Raised. Cherished. Someone whose death would not affect him. Someone that if he helped them, the thought of crossing Elsa would be the first thing that stopped him, instead of the last, and only. He wished none of this was his fault, and that he could go back to the way things were; before. But the world did not work that way. It never had.

"Why won't you help me?" Søren bit back tears at his son's plea. "Why are you scared of helping me—we could run away together. We could be anything."

Konrad didn't want to understand—or maybe he did, and refused to see the grim reality of it. Søren balled his hands into fists, pushing his anger away, trying to take a calming breath.

"What, planning to hit me again?"

Søren cursed, opening his eyes. "No!"

"Well why won't you help me?!"

"Because it's wrong! It's wrong, and you have to understand what you did was wrong."

"I know it was. I… Dad… why are you letting me die?" Søren took a breath, tears stinging his eyes. It would have been easier to hear accusation in his son's voice. Far, far easier than it was to hear such despair. "Why can't you stop them? Why can't you save me?"

"Because…" Søren sighed, burying his face in his hands, rubbing his palms against teary eyes. "Because I was weak. Because I was never there. Because… becau—"

"Why?!" Konrad demanded, his voice filling the air.

Soren's reply was barely above a whisper. "Because I don't deserve you. I should have to lose you, for how I failed. I should have to suffer that. I deserve it. I deserve to lose you because I never treated you right. Because I should have been there for you; and now maybe I need you, and you won't be there for me, and those are my just desserts."

"But why me? Why should I have to die so you can suffer?"

"Because you tried to kill Elsa!" Silence reigned until Søren managed to find his voice once more, suddenly hoarse. "How can you not see?"

"She's dangerous. I had to protect you."

"She's a person, and she's good. What if… what if it had been Sylvi?"

"I—" but Konrad's protest died in his throat. He had no answer.

"What if it had just been someone from town. Aki, maybe, or old Thorstad?"

Konrad frowned, confusion playing across his face. It was clear he didn't understand. Søren sighed—maybe it was too late for his son to understand, maybe there just wasn't the time left. Maybe the time had come to truly accept what this was. The reason he wouldn't defy the queen. The reason he refused to help.

A lost cause.

His own son, his sole surviving family, now so far past help that anything more was merely an exercise in futility. Even giving his son hope for the future was pointless; especially when that future had been pre-ordained by royal edict. Pre-ordained and cut disastrously short. Maybe the only hope Konrad was allowed was that from the scripture. Maybe he would live on, somehow absolved of sin. But Søren knew that was a pale hope; that his son was more likely to be taken to hell, tormented for eternity by the machinations of the Infernal.

But even if his own son was a lost cause; even if no hope remained; even if he could not accept in full what had happened, he could not simply turn his back on it. He could not just walk away from the futility of the situation. He had to accept, somehow, now, that this would be the last time he saw his son alive. If… if he was called to attend the execution, the young man up there would not be his son. Would not be Konrad. Konrad was already dead. Whoever his son was now, it was not a person he knew. Not anymore. He called for the guard, and was freed from the cell in which the young man behind him would spend the rest of his short life.

He didn't want to hear the shouts of protest as he walked away. The anger. The tears. But he heard everything. He couldn't not. The last time he had laid eyes on his son had not been seconds ago, but weeks ago. He still didn't know where he had gone wrong, or if he still was. But he had to make his peace somehow; acknowledge the solemn finality of this moment. Tears staining his cheeks, he tried to stand straighter, squaring his shoulders. He didn't look back. He couldn't. All that resolve would crumble and he would never again be able to leave. Just one word, emerging as a breathless whisper, carrying the weight of all his pain and regret. There was nothing more to say.

"Goodbye."


	69. Friendship & Family Dreams

Walking back and forth, pacing nervously, Anna flicked a braid back over her shoulder as she turned. She stopped pacing, looking up at the gates before her, trying to step forward. She couldn't. There was something out there, just waiting to take her away when she was alone. Something dark and scary not at all real. She balled her hand into a fist and kicked at the dirt on the cobbles in the courtyard. She could do this. She had to. She started pacing again, trying to make it across the threshold.

"You'll wear the stones out, you keep pacing like that." She stilled, turning to see a familiar mop of blonde hair and a slightly oversized nose.

"I can't get out Kristoff. I can't make myself leave the castle. Something's wrong…"

"You were brave enough the other day, when we went to the sauna." Kristoff paused, reflective. Sven came up and butted him from behind. "Hey buddy, think you can help Anna get out of the castle?"

This led to energetic prancing followed by a canter so swift it nearly bowled both Anna and Kristoff from their feet. Kristoff chased after Sven, stumbling slightly, shouting in protest. "That is _not_ what I meant!"

Anna's hand covered her mouth as she stifled a laugh, chasing after them. She was momentarily overcome, and all of a sudden she was watching the sky, the shapes of the clouds. It was like she'd just hit a brick wall and knocked herself senseless. She rose unsteadily, hearing rapid footfalls coming towards her from somewhere outside. Somewhere dangerous. But it was only Kristoff, abandoning the chase, running back to her.

He placed a hand against each of her shoulders, squaring them, before he lifted her chin. She looked into his eyes and saw only concern for her.

"Why don't we just sit here a while?" He asked, motioning to a nearby bench. Anna took a seat, suddenly grateful to be off her feet. She'd been pacing all morning. Ever since she'd left the castle proper. She had been trying to work up the courage to leave the grounds. To make her way through town. All the way through town; right to the overlook. She shook her head, looking away from her boyfriend. Maybe she'd tried to take too big a step—just as she had with him. But she wanted so badly not to be scared; of anything. The best way she knew to do that was to face her fears.

Somehow her fears were a lot stronger today—even Elsa had left her. Anna wouldn't begrudge her sister that, because it took a great amount of courage for Elsa to leave her alone when she knew she was hurt or afraid. But she had said going to church was something she needed to do. Elsa had also said she should be back before noon. She wasn't, and Elsa was never late. Hank wasn't back either—he had left with Elsa in the morning, apparently. And Anna wondered suddenly if there might be good reason for her sister to be late. She knew Elsa wasn't like that; besides, she and Hank weren't even courting, though it might have looked that way to some. Well, they sort of were, but… Anna shrugged, not knowing what to think about it. Maybe something to talk about with Elsa—later, in the evening, perhaps.

An arm lay across her shoulders, pulling her in to a warm embrace. Her head rested against Kristoff's shoulder. There was only so much she could take all at once. There was a strange ghost of feeling across her belly, and she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. One arm held her tight while Kristoff's other hand mercilessly tickled her stomach. She couldn't help but laugh. The assault subsided and she got her breathing under control once more. Her ribs still hurt a little, and she placed her hand against her side, pressing gently against the slight twinge of pain she felt.

"Sorry," Kristoff mumbled in apology. "I just wanted to see you smile."

"It's okay," Anna leant into him. "It doesn't really hurt." And for his efforts, she gave him a smile, the best she could manage.

There was silence for a time, Sven trotting nonchalantly through the castle gates as if nothing had happened, earning himself a reproving look from Kristoff. Anna smiled softly at the silent exchange now going on between the reindeer and her boyfriend. Her thoughts turned sombre when she realized that even a reindeer was somehow braver than her. A reindeer somehow miraculously uninjured by the blast, or the crossbows the Weseltonian soldiers had used.

Anna stood, walking over to Sven, placing an arm around his neck and nuzzling up to him. He smelled like Kristoff, only dirtier. Sort of musky and earthy and really quite strong. She patted his flank and he nuzzled into her stomach, almost making her stumble. "I'm glad you're okay, too, Sven. It must have been so scary."

Sven stepped back, standing tall, legs straight, head held high. Anna could have sworn she saw the reindeer's chest puff out with pride, no matter how ridiculous it was. Then Sven took a purposeful step forward, lowering his head to butt gently against her chest. Then he rubbed his head against her, and she reached up to pat his forehead. From behind her she heard a mildly admonishing voice. "Show off."

"Don't listen to him, he's just jealous," Anna gave Sven one last pat, then returned to the bench.

Sven walked closer, then turned in a circle several times before flopping down, gathering his legs beneath him. Anna paid him no mind, turning to Kristoff.

"I'm afraid of what's out there, Kristoff. I mean, like just outside the walls. There's all of Arendelle and I don't know anyone and I only kind of know my way around town, and then we have the forests, and I keep getting lost in them, and there could be people hiding in them, or behind hills, or in the shadows, and I don't know when but they're going to try again. Or someone else will. It's not safe for me out there."

"It is safe. More than safe."

"How can you _know?_ " Anna's voice held a plaintive note. "After what happened, why aren't you scared?"

"I'm not scared because I know we stopped them. I don't think I was ever scared of them. Okay, okay, maybe I was a little, because I knew they were dangerous, and I'm not really a warrior—but I was more afraid for you. I had no idea what they were doing. The… second night, I think, I found the fort. _Olaf_ , found the fort. I–I heard you scream; right before they shot us. They hit Olaf, and another bolt grazed me. I had to run. I had to."

Anna started to say something, trying to phrase her question in a way that wouldn't hurt either of them until she realized her question had already been answered, and she just hadn't had the sense to see it right away. She'd wanted to ask why Kristoff hadn't rescued her then. Why he wasn't able to storm the fort and save her. Because he wasn't a warrior, and because he wouldn't have stood a chance against all those crossbows. Weselton hadn't needed to keep anyone else alive—only her. She shivered despite the day's warmth.

"Also, feistypants, I know it'll be safe for you, because I'll _make_ it safe. I'll be there for you. You won't have to go alone—not if you don't want to."

"But that's just it," Anna waved her hand about in frustration. "This _is_ something I have to do alone. I have to do it alone to prove I can do it."

"But do you have to do this thing all alone, or can you ask for help sometimes?"

"Oh…" Anna trailed off, her determination faltering. That was actually a really smart question, and she wished she'd thought to ask it herself. Because maybe leaving the castle and getting through town wasn't the really important part. Maybe that really was just telling her parents what she really thought of them, now that she knew the truth—now that she and Elsa were really, properly talking. About the one thing that made Elsa special, above all others. The one thing her parents really had not known how to deal with or understand.

"I… I guess don't have to do it all alone."

"And knowing you, you want to start big. You want to do this all at once."

"Yeah I do, I really do, but… it's a bad idea," she smiled at her boyfriend. "You showed me that. Pushing too hard, pushing for too much, pushing other people to try and help myself."

"Do you know where to start this time?"

"I do," Anna smiled at the warmth in Kristoff's voice, standing, taking the step so she was just at the edge of the castle gates. She could go that far, and no further. Not without help. She could feel Kristoff's hand at her back, not pushing her, but not letting her retreat either. She felt trapped, but she closed her eyes and let the feeling pass. She wasn't trapped, and Kristoff wouldn't stop her from turning back if she really was desperate to escape. It just enough to force her to confront herself over the issue.

Kristoff took a single step forward, his arm exerting a gentle pressure on her back. Anna shivered, trying to take a tentative step. "Look," Kristoff gestured to the outside of the gates, the hinges set in the stone of the castle's walls. "We're still inside the walls. See this line of stones—yes, those ones—that's the edge of the castle walls. So we're still inside the castle. We're still safe."

"I–I know, but it's…" Anna trailed off, taking half a step backwards. "It's still scary. And there are so many people out there."

"I thought it was Elsa that was scared of crowds?"

"Among other things," Anna mumbled, suddenly noticing how Kristoff had dragged her forward, past the line he had just told her about.

"Where do the castle grounds end, feistypants?"

Anna took a step back, pressing against the wall, trying to remember her lessons. The castle grounds covered the entire promontory on which it was raised, the seawall, the cliff, and she was pretty sure the causeway into Arendelle proper counted as part of the castle as well and now she was finally seeing what Kristoff was doing and it was brilliant. She took a chance to take a step forward—just one—so she could kiss him on the cheek.

"I know what you're up to, Reindeer King."

"Well, is it working?"

"Sort of, I guess. I'm kinda outside the castle now and I'm not sure how much further I can go—oh, hey, look, there's Elsa. I have to show her how far I can go now. Come on, drag me to the bridge."

"Drag you?" Kristoff turned to give her a questioning look. "Isn't that kind of undignified for a princess?"

"Hello, royal spare—plus, I'd rather be brave than dignified in front of my sister, and she knows it too."

"Okay then," Kristoff shrugged, picking Anna up by the waist.

"What are you doing?" And suddenly she was slung over her boyfriend's shoulder and the castle was getting very far away. The distance seemed to stretch miles with every step, a great gap yawning between her and safety. Kristoff turned to put her down, and she could see Elsa—but the distance there was even greater, and she was torn. Elsa was getting closer. Safety—the castle—wasn't. Kristoff was only a step away, one hand pressed firmly against her back, helping her hold her place.

She felt so small, and everything was so far away. But she was brave. She had to be brave to show Elsa how far she'd come—to show Elsa she could be there too; that she could sometimes do these things herself. Well, with help from Kristoff. And then she thought maybe that wouldn't have been so great for her sister to see, because Elsa wanted to help with everything, and seemed kind of hurt when Anna had told her there were just some things she couldn't talk about—except with Kristoff.

Anna turned to run, and suddenly she was on the ground, looking up at Sven's very confused expression. He snorted, nuzzling her stomach, wrinkling her dress. The sky above him was so wide and open—and empty. Well, there were clouds, but what possible danger could come from clouds? Fluffy white clouds. She just lay there, slightly dazed, not sure which way her mind would make her run if she stood. Kristoff knelt at her side, one arm lifting her from the cobbles.

"Hey, Sven, you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

" _But she was running away from you._ "

"I know you mean well, but she wasn't running from me."

" _So why does she keep running?_ "

"I'm right here," Anna declared testily, annoyed at being talked about instead of talked to. "Also… you 'talk' to Sven?"

"He gives me good advice." There was a long pause. "Sometimes."

" _Reindeer King,_ " and Sven seemed to laugh at that, much to Kristoff's chagrin.

Anna stood slowly, taking three short, fast steps to the castle wall, placing her hand against it as if its solidity could lend her strength. Then she turned, taking a step back towards the end of the bridge. Another. She faltered at the third step, paying no mind to the polite argument between her boyfriend and a reindeer. She tried to take that third step again, and found she couldn't. She looked back, back at the castle wall. At the gates. At the palace guards flanking the gates. This was the furthest she had come on her own. It didn't matter if Kristoff and Sven were closer to the bridge—the bridge Elsa was now rolling over, Hank at her side—this was the furthest she had managed to get from the castle all on her own.

She waved shyly to Elsa, taking a step back towards the castle. She managed a much brighter wave, not using all her focus to just stay put. This was far enough. She knew now that she could go further, but she didn't have to. Progress was progress, no matter how small. The same would be true of Elsa's powers. Because soon they would start running the first experiments—when she and Elsa could find some more time together.

Elsa waved in reply, making her way swiftly to the end of the causeway, Hank following closely behind. Elsa smiled up at her, and Anna had to smile back. It was good to see her sister happy—even if she was late. Anna put on her best mock-stern voice, wagging her finger the same way Gerda would have.

"You're late."

"I had a talk with Bishop Gudbrand—"

"The one that yelled at you and you maybe scared a bit much after that meeting?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. "We only have one bishop; so yes, the very same."

"Can I ask what you talked about?"

"Inside. The church is further than I remember, and I need something to eat. It's also quite tiring to move that far all at once—I think my arms might be about to fall o—"

Elsa's hands covered her mouth, but Anna just laughed—couldn't Elsa see it was funny, and that even little jokes like that weren't going to hurt her? But she also knew Elsa cared too much, and wouldn't do anything if it risked hurting her. Not that Anna was particularly concerned about those dangers; as long as Elsa was close to her that was all that mattered. For both of them. But it also mattered if Kristoff was close to her. Elsa was just sitting there, looking worried.

"Lighten up," Anna teased her sister. "I lost five pounds on that side. Imagine if it was a le—" Then it was her turn to cover an equally shocked mouth. Maybe they needed to make a rule about these kinds of jokes, but for some reason Elsa was blushing, trying not to laugh.

"Okay, okay, I think we're even now," and Elsa smiled up at her again. "Can we please go and get something to eat?"

"Sure," Anna turned, heading back to the castle proper. "Did you have a good time at church?"

"I don't know if I'd call it good, but we didn't get into any trouble. And how about you—You were outside the gates. I'm proud of you."

"Kristoff helped—and I know you really wanna help too, but I kinda thought there was something I had to do myself and it turns out I didn't. I can't yet, anyway, but Kristoff caught me trying to wear out the cobbles in front of the gates."

"You never could wait so patiently."

Anna gently thumped her sister on the arm. There was so much she wanted to say. So much she wanted to share. But now was not the time. And later, with the magic, that would be Elsa's time. Maybe after. Maybe just before bed. They always seemed to have good talks then—or in the morning, when they'd both just woken up in the same bed. It wasn't that strange, was it? Siblings often shared bedrooms, or even beds. Not so much as adults though, and Anna frowned at the thought. Maybe that was another reason Elsa might be in love with her—but it ran deeper than that. Elsa wanted to share everything, except her pain, her burdens, and her sister.

What?

And Anna recalled what Elsa had said, so long ago, after making her breakfast in bed, for the start of a day that was going to be completely her own. A slightly burnt, overly sweetened, but still mostly edible breakfast. A comment had been made about having both Kristoff and Elsa to herself. Then Elsa had replied that she didn't like sharing, and Anna had nearly choked on the half-burnt slice of toast she had been eating at the time. Speaking of which, she still needed to show Elsa how to cook something.

They made it to the kitchen without further incident, Kristoff taking Sven out for a trot around Arendelle, and Hank somehow conveniently making himself scarce. Anna had to wonder if her sister had planned that. It probably didn't matter. And anyway, she was kind of hungry too, and they could talk about things like that over lunch. Anna smiled, grabbing items from around the kitchen. No matter what else happened, it seemed like today was going to be a good day.

* * *

Anna sighed softly, and Elsa looked around ballroom. It looked strange in the light of the afternoon sun, filled with so many memories, mostly negative. There were memories of togetherness too, and sharing their pains, but those still weren't the best reflection of the place. Elsa closed her eyes, imagining the room at night—in its natural state. She smiled softly, remembering every time that Anna had been there for her. Just like she was now—and now she was pushing her to actually _play_ with her magic. To experiment. Explore. Discover.

"Are you ready?" Anna asked, kneeling next to her.

"I think so—are you sure we should be doing this?"

"Yes. Now stop looking so worried, just, I don't know, make some snow?"

Elsa took a breath, flicking her wrist out. In the centre of the room a six foot pile of snow appeared, slowly spreading across the floor. Anna ran and jumped straight into it, half burying herself. She rolled onto her back, waving at Elsa.

"See, that wasn't so hard. Oh, hey, what about your frosty things—like when you made that Flynn Rider adventure for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, art, maybe," Anna sat up, frowning slightly. "Or like a painting or a mural or something. Something pretty—something beautiful—the way you are."

Closing her eyes, Elsa spread her hands wide, making a slab of ice on which to make her art. The border was easy, a snowflake motif with rayed stars spreading inwards from each corner. Then she pursed her lips, trying to think of something to 'paint'. It could be anything, anything at all—but Anna had asked for something beautiful. Beautiful like her. Something cold and majestic. Something with a darkness inside, and a pure light beside it. And then she knew what it was she had to show her sister.

Arrow straight lines began flowing up the face of the ice slab, branching and plating out into complex geometric formations. It took a surprising amount of memory and focus to get the shape right. Then softer lines, rounded, for the snow capped mountainside. A semi-circle, filled in with fractal plates, rays of light passing through the entire image. Elsa hummed softly while she worked, losing herself in an act of creation both simple and sublime.

Some time later, the shadows on the floor having moved visibly, she was done. The picture was—no, it wasn't quite perfect. Just there, something was missing, a little right of the centre. She pressed two fingers against the picture, frost flowing from her fingertips, adding the finishing tough to the piece. She rolled back, finally letting Anna see the piece in its entirety. A quiet gasp came from behind her. A small whisper.

"Elsa… it's… it's…" words seemed to have failed her sister, who was now hugging her fiercely, trying very hard not to cry.

"For you," Elsa whispered in reply, wrapping her arms around her sister's shoulders.

"But you're standing… you–you can't. You said you couldn't."

"You told me once you'd find a way," Elsa released her sister so they could look into each other's eyes. "You will. I believe you. I don't know how long it's going to take—it could be five years; it could be fifty—but you'll find a way. And so will I. I'll make this dream of yours come true. But… only for you. I don't know how much it's going to take, but this will be something all for you. Because it's no less than you deserve, for your devotion to me over all those years. You never gave up on your dream of seeing me again, so I know you won't give up on this one either."

Anna stood, suddenly all business. "If you're going to stand for me, then we're starting right now. You can do this. I'll show you how. Make some snow around me, I think I'm gonna be falling over a lot."

Elsa rolled her wrists and spread her hands, snow surrounding her sister, forming a layer thick enough to cushion any falls. As she conjured the snow, she remembered a day, some time ago, when Anna had asked for the exact same thing. And what Anna's next request had been. A request she might still be unable to fulfil. But she would try. She would keep trying, because this was for Anna, and despite how crazy her plans sometimes were, they always seemed to work.

"I know it's going to be scary, but you need to freeze my legs. Only my legs. Just make a block of ice if it's easier."

"But I—"

"No. You don't get to play that card anymore. We're experimenting with your magic. I know the risks—umm, mostly, I think—so you can do it. I know you can."

"But what if it hurts you?" Elsa didn't even notice the slip.

Anna shrugged. "Then I get hurt. It won't be your fault and—oh, here: I, Princess Anna of the line of Arendelle, do hereby give you, my stinker of an older sister, permission to hurt me in the line of her duty and desire to once more stand on her own two feet."

Elsa hid her face behind her hands when she saw her sister's smirk. Damn, but she'd played it well. And now Elsa had no more excuses. Anna had just specifically and formally said that she really didn't care if she got hurt, as long as it was helping her to stand again. Elsa cursed, _sotto voce_. She approached her sister, placing one hand on either of Anna's thighs. Now came the hard part.

Calling on the magic was easy—it was always there. Feeling it flow through her wasn't difficult. But purposefully directing it at her sister? Making sure it didn't try to feed off her own fears? That was the hard part. She could feel the way Anna's muscles twitched, the way she shivered against the cold. She could hear slightly ragged breathing, and she could see a fist clenched in stubborn determination, shaking with effort. She knew this was hurting Anna—she knew, and she couldn't do it. Not to Anna.

But when she removed her hands, Anna took first one, and then the other, firmly pushing them back into place. Elsa couldn't look up at her sister's face, afraid of what she might see. But this much, at least, she could try to finish. She knew this was far more than just freezing her sister's legs into a block of ice. It went right to the core, and she knew it had to hurt. But Anna wouldn't let her stop, and was now suddenly tottering back and forth, her arm starting to windmill slowly.

She seemed to fall in slow motion, kicking up a great cloud of snow that took forever to settle. Then she laughed before sharp intake of breath revealed how much pain she was in. Elsa looked away.

"No, Elsa, look at me. I'm still here for you."

Elsa looked up, seeing the pain hidden by her sister's strength. So very much strength, just for her benefit.

"It really does hurt"—Anna grimaced as she spoke—"but I brought this on myself. Please understand tha—ow. Cold. Cold cold cold. I asked for this, and knew what it might do—and I also know that as soon as I ask you to thaw it, you can, and you will. Now stand me up. Hah, that's a useful trick. Right, move my legs, just slightly apart—kind of shoulder width, I guess. Good"—Anna winced, shivering, quickly regaining her composure—"good, whoa… oh no."

Elsa watched as her sister fell face first into the snow. Anna rolled onto her side, trying to lever herself slightly upright. Elsa burned inside with the futility of it. It was a feeling she knew all too well herself—something she had fought with those first few weeks. Anna groaned with effort, then let out a frustrated sigh as she fell on her back, looking up at Elsa.

"It's so hard. I mean, I thought I knew how hard it was for—ow—you, but just trying to do all this… gods, Elsa… why did you never ask for more help?"

"You know why," Elsa sighed heavily.

"You. Stinker." Anna had rolled onto her front, dragging herself along the floor, through the snow, inching closer to Elsa's chair. "Now hold still. When I reach you, I am slapping you so hard."

Elsa pushed her chair back slightly. "You expect me to stay still after you tell me that?"

"Hey, that's cheating!"

"I thought you wanted to show me how to stand again?" Elsa asked quietly, righting her sister and creating another field of snow for her to fall against.

"I do. And I will, and—argh!" A cloud of snow flurried through the air. Anna huffed in frustration, crossing her arm over her chest, blowing stray hairs from her face. She slowly levered herself up into a raised reclining position, wobbling slightly on her elbow. "Why is it so hard to stand like this?"

"Because you can't control your legs at all. I can make it so you won't fall down." Elsa raised her sister one more time, and with a swift gesture encased her legs in a much larger and more substantial block of ice.

"Okay, now I'm stuck."

"But are you falling over?"

"No—but I guess I look really silly, so I can kinda see why you wouldn't normally do—oh that's cold—do this."

"So what do you think is a better way to stand?"

"Umm… maybe with crutches—but then"—Anna grimaced, turning away for a second. Elsa still saw the few tears she was hiding—"you wouldn't be standing on your own two feet, so we really need to think of a better solution. And I think you can thaw my legs now. Ahhh… that's better." And Anna promptly fell into the snow, sitting, massaging her thighs and calves, flexing her toes. She blinked, brushing some snow from her dress. "Wow… that was a lot harder than I thought."

"Harder than stepping outside?"

"I—Different," Anna nodded slowly. "I mean, that's hard too, but this, I mean, I think I know what it's like for you, but I sort of don't, because you just can't feel anything in your legs, and I could, and it hurt—and no, don't blame yourself. I _wanted_ to do this. Maybe it wasn't very smart, but I wanted to prove it was possible. We just have to work on it some more. And later you can massage the rest of the cold out of my legs—consider it your penance, if you have to."

"Maybe I should," Elsa spoke seriously. "Do you want to continue today?"

"Nah, I think we've tried enough magic for now—but, oh, we have to keep your picture. Hey, what if we get an engraver to make a plate of it for us?"

"That's…" Elsa trailed off, thinking. Her sister wanted to preserve that picture, and all it represented. All the memories they'd just made. Then there was the fact neither of them were sure how long said picture would last—despite the fact her ice never thawed if she didn't want it to. Finally, an engraver's plate would hold it for posterity, for many years into the future, beyond the end of their own times. It would let the people of the future see the very human side of the snow queen.

Elsa smiled, helping her sister from the snow, her voice quietly reverent. "I really like that idea."


	70. Off Kilter & On Point

**Trigger Warnings: Violence**

* * *

Kristoff sat at the high table in castle's dining hall, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. It was his best—and only—suit, and he was quite sure he was going to spill something on it. Soup. Gravy. Wine. Ice Cream. _Something_. All because a certain someone wanted to bring him to a formal dinner. When said dinner would take place he hadn't been told, only that tonight would serve as a kind of rehearsal for it. But he could still appreciate the amount of food on the table. Certainly more than enough for its four occupants, sitting clustered towards the head of the table.

Elsa, as queen, took pride of place at the head of the table, her wheelchair sculpted into a regal and icy throne of sorts. Well, maybe it wasn't a throne, Kristoff considered, but it was certainly fancier than any of the chairs anyone else was sitting in. To Elsa's left sat former lieutenant Erikson, also looking mildly uncomfortable. Why, Kristoff couldn't say, but he didn't feel quite as out of place if even lieutenant Erikson wasn't entirely pleased with the evening's plans.

To Elsa's right—and Kristoff's left—sat Anna, a somewhat dark expression furrowing her eyebrows as she looked over at her sister. He watched as Elsa tried to smile for Anna. He could sense something had happened to make them at least a little uncomfortable around each other, maybe even some kind of fight, given how every now and then Anna would surreptitiously massage her thighs and calves and Elsa would look away in shame. Anna thought she was being surreptitious, but Kristoff could tell easily what was going on. So could everyone else.

"Elsa was experimenting with her magic and I had a great idea and she froze my legs so now she feels really bad about it which is silly because it was all my idea and I said she could." Everyone at the table turned to stare at her. So did several of the servants waiting in the wings. "What?"

Elsa laughed demurely, covering her mouth with her hand. Lieutenant Erikson chuckled—something far more personable than Kristoff had expected. Even Kristoff couldn't help himself laughing along with the servants in the background trying so very hard not laugh themselves. Not all of them managed it. Then Anna leaned backwards slightly, just enough to be able to punch him in the arm.

"I asked her to," she stated flatly, and what little laughter had remained suddenly stopped. Kristoff turned to stare at the woman he was courting—his red haired and obviously crazy girlfriend. Really, he should have known better. He knew what she was like, the good and the bad. Well, some of it at any rate.

"Why?" was all Kristoff could think to say in reply, his meal now forgotten. He watched as Anna glanced towards her sister who smiled but gave a small shake of her head.

Anna shrugged, spearing a piece of meat with her fork, and glanced furtively around the table before replying playfully: "Secret."

"Kristoff?" Kristoff turned to face Elsa as she spoke his name. "May I assume that my sister has told you that this dinner was to serve as a rehearsal for a properly formal event?"

"Uhh, yes. She has, why?"

"In three weeks time, near the middle of September, there will be the harvest festival. The night before the festival we—by which I mean to say Arendelle—will host a state dinner for our allies and trading partners. It is during this time that new deals are generally struck, and major trade negotiations expected to take place. All of the greater and lesser nobles are expected to attend, in addition to certain members of the council staff, notably the minister for trade, and the head guildsman. As Queen of the realm I am of course expected to attend, and with me will be Hank, afforded his place in the proceedings by virtue of being my _houscarl_ , and thus indispensable."

Kristoff smiled politely, taking a small sip of wine and a larger bite out of his dinner. Elsa frowned slightly, and Kristoff figured he had made some small mistake by actually eating while he was being talked to. Three weeks was unlikely to be long enough to get his manners right anyway. He'd rather be thought of as uncouth but honest than well-mannered and boring. And Elsa was still talking.

"Anna, as the current heir apparent will also be expected to appear at this event—though I will add the caveat that it is only if she feels herself ready—and with her, Kristoff, you are also afforded a place. Both because I believe you truly deserve one, despite your lack of blood nobility, and also that your presence might ward off any overly eager suitors likely to be in attendance. It seems to be the way with the harvest festival, so Kai has told me. Anna has a right to bring you herself, as she is the one you are courting, but you also have an invitation from the queen."

It was Kristoff's turn to frown. He was fairly sure Anna would have recovered well enough with another three weeks to be able to attend. He was more concerned with the comments about overly eager suitors—and what he might do should they start bothering Anna too much. He began wondering how much chaos a single broken nose might cause. Then again, if someone pestered Anna too much, she was quite capable of making her displeasure known in a number of ways, both creative and rather endearing.

"The castle will, for the duration of the festival, be home to a great number of guests. Especially so during the state dinner. I am willing, amongst those present now, to reveal my apprehension about the entire endeavour, given what happened on the last occasion the castle found itself home to so many guests for a grand ceremony. I will likely need help from all quarters to maintain both my energy and my composure for the length of the dinner, and the festival in the following days. That is why I've called tonight as a rehearsal of the festival dinner."

Kristoff sat there for a full minute, processing. So many rich and important—very important—people would be attending this dinner. He had no idea how to behave properly around such nobility. Somehow the prospect of accidentally spilling something on his shirt seemed much less disastrous. It might even serve as a means of escape—even if it would mean leaving Anna alone in a room full of strange people. And what of Elsa, if he left? She had lieutenant Erikson, of course, but she might well need more than just her _houscarl_. She might very well need a friend—or at least as much of a friend as Kristoff was to her.

"There is, in fact, another reason for tonight's more lavish dinner," Elsa spoke less formally, and Kristoff took note of the way lieutenant Erikson laid his hand over Elsa's, eliciting not a start of surprise, but a gentle smile of relief. "One week ago today I helped rescue Anna from the fort at Løkarna. She continues to remind me that I should celebrate even the small victories in my life—but rescuing her was no small victory, and everyone here played their part."

Only a week ago. Kristoff glanced at Anna, impressed at how far she had come in a week. It seemed impossible—but then again it should also have been impossible for him to be dating a princess. Then there was her indomitable spirit—with which she was facing everything that scared her, refusing to back down. Her strength was her courage, and everyone could see that.

"Kristoff, for your actions, I will bestow upon you the title of Baron of the North." Elsa spoke clearly, holding up a hand to stall his protest. "Before you say a word, it will indeed 'be a thing' when it is put into writing. Your holdings will be some of the land at the foot of the North Mountain. Kai and myself will explain to you what all of this means within a few days, after the decree is passed into law."

Kristoff smiled, but looked vaguely confused. He really was going to need that explanation. The actions of nobility were a mystery to him, but he would have rather had it stay that way than be forced now to learn it because he was one of them. After a brief pause to allow Kristoff to process what he'd been told, Elsa continued on.

"Lieutenant Henrik Erikson, for your actions in defending both myself and the realm; and for your actions in speeding the recovery of my sister, I hereby promote you to the rank of Captain. In addition, for your spirit of sacrifice and courage beyond the call of duty, I am recommending you for the Star of Arendelle."

Lieutenant Erikson swallowed uneasily, and Kristoff understood his reaction all too well. This must have been to the lieutenant what being made nobility was to him. Especially the way he fumbled his words when trying to show his appreciation.

"Your majest—Elsa—Queen Elsa—I am truly… words fail me."

Elsa smiled warmly, hiding a laugh behind her hand, speaking only for lieutenant Erikson, her voice barely loud enough to carry over the table to Kristoff's ears. "Words may fail you at the best of times, but your actions never have."

Then the lieutenant lifted Elsa's hand in appreciation, leaning forward to kiss it softly. He smiled and Elsa blushed, trying very hard to look completely innocent and failing most spectacularly. Anna dropped her fork, hitting the side of her plate with a loud clatter, splashing gravy across the table in front of her. And her dress. And Kristoff's shirt. The ice harvester looked down in dismay.

Something had indeed been spilt on his shirt, and _it wasn't even his fault_. He felt a little cheated. Then he laughed, as good-naturedly as he could manage, at his and Anna's minor misfortune. Elsa's blush faded, a minute later she managed to find her voice again, slightly breathless.

"Lastly, were it possible, I would also recommend Anna for the Star of Arendelle, but alas it is only for those who have served in the military. Instead I give to her my promise that no matter what happens, I will always try to be a better sister. That is all you ever asked of me, Anna, and I see no reason it cannot happen—unless the secret stash of chocolates you think I don't know that you know about happens to be found empty."

Kristoff turned to the young princess, the woman he was courting, his girlfriend, and more besides, and was surprised to find her blushing furiously and looking rather intently at something on her plate. Then she laughed softly, turning to face her sister.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," then she smiled the most devious grin Kristoff had ever seen her wearing. "Especially as you seem to have discovered another stash in an undisclosed location on the third floor of the castle."

"Such a shame," Elsa laughed softly as she spoke, holding a single chocolate between her fingers. "That was going to be dessert."

Anna's crestfallen look was simply too serious not to be funny, and everyone laughed, Kristoff included. He placed a hand at her back and whispered a quiet assurance in her ear. He would make sure to always carry at least one chocolate with him at all times—just in case. And also an extra shirt if any staining liquids were to be involved. It seemed like a very good idea.

* * *

Elsa smiled as Anna sighed, the redhead lying facedown on her mattress. Elsa was sitting next to her, somewhat awkwardly, massaging her legs. Anna's skin was soft, and her leg hair was surprisingly fine, almost downy. Shaking her head Elsa tried to dispel the unsisterly thoughts her mind was currently entertaining. The contented noises her sister was making did not help Elsa's imagination in the least—or, perhaps, they helped it rather too much. Elsa closed her eyes, and that was worse. Anna was her sister. She shouldn't be thinking these things. Even if the gown she'd imagined her sister in was absolutely magnificent, and would have looked better—she let go of Anna's leg, pushing herself back.

Anna rolled onto her back, turquoise eyes staring up at her sister. Elsa sighed, looking away, blushing. "If you just wanted to tease me why are you even bothering with my legs?"

"I don't," Elsa replied quietly, managing to shyly meet her sister's gaze. "I mean, I don't mean to tease you, but touching you like this… my mind… wanders."

"Your mind… oh." And Anna clapped her hand to her mouth suppress a giggle. Elsa looked away as Anna spoke further. "If you're that uncomfortable I could always call someone else to—"

"No." Elsa's reply was instant, and her voice was firm. "I hurt you. I'll make it better. Somehow." What she didn't say was that she wanted any excuse to keep touching her sister—to keep strengthening the bond between them, even in ways that were not proper or sisterly. Then there was the fact she had felt a great surge of jealousy when Anna had suggested someone else could do it. Jealousy, and some disappointment. Despite everything, Elsa still wanted to be the big sister Anna had never had. She also wanted to be something else Anna had never had, but she quashed that thought as best she could.

Oblivious to her sister's inner conflict, Anna rolled on to her stomach, turning her head so her voice wouldn't be muffled by the covers. "I said it was okay if you hurt me; you shouldn't be so worried about it."

"But I am, Anna. I'm always worried about hurting you, or you getting hurt. I don't _want_ to hurt you. Ever. I don't want to see you get hurt either. It took everything I had to hold it in when I got that letter from Weaseltown—the one describing the many ways they had hurt you—thankfully none of which were true. Then at the fort, when that man was about to hurt you—you saw what I did. I killed him. I killed him with my magic. I did it _deliberately_ , and I _wanted_ him to suffer."

"And now you're afraid you might have to do it again?" Anna fidgeted for a moment, clearly thinking it over. "Well that… and you're probably scared of it being an accident; of hurting someone by accident."

Elsa sighed heavily, noticing the slight dusting of snow around the room. How was it that Anna was so perceptive? Then again, she had revealed her deepest fears to Anna, and Anna had tried to assuage most of them. A silence fell between them, and Elsa took a deep breath, calling in the snow, dispelling the magic slowly leaking out. The silence stretched on until Anna spoke again, a firm but regretful tone in her voice.

"You're not the only one with blood on their hands." Elsa turned to look sharply at her sister. Then she recalled a conversation some time ago, when Anna had confessed to killing one of her attackers in her—ultimately futile—attempt to help captain Ragnar. "But it's not your fault. You wanted to save me. I don't know, I mean maybe you did want to hurt Sten, but what you really did, whether you meant to or not, was save me."

Anna turned slightly, smiling back at her sister. "And I'm pretty sure _that_ was deliberate too." Elsa smiled in reply.

"It was," Elsa admitted with barely a thought. "But so was killing that man. There were so many ways I could have simply stopped him."

"But you couldn't know whether or not he'd be back, or if he'd try again." Anna rolled onto her back again, awkwardly propping herself up on her elbow. "You did your best. You tried. You know that's all I'll ever ask of you, right—that you just keep trying?" She sighed, shaking her head to try and clear a few stray hairs from her face. Elsa leaned down and tenderly brushed the hairs aside before overbalancing and landing flat on her face in the covers. She muttered something inappropriate as her sister laughed at her, then pushed herself up and struggled to roll over, lying on the bed next to her sister.

"I'm not going to get that foot rub, am I?" Anna asked some moments later, mockingly disappointed. Elsa laughed. "Then again, you wouldn't know what a good foot rub felt like."

"Hey!" And Elsa was tempted to thump her sister for the double meaning there.

Anna's tone became serious. "You still can't feel anything, can you?" And the young redhead flipped herself around, placing her head next to Elsa's feet, and her feet next to Elsa's shoulders. She prodded Elsa's stockinged toes. Nothing happened. She took Elsa's big toe between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed it. Elsa felt nothing, even when Anna appeared to be tickling her foot. Anna had apparently felt something, starting in surprise, and Elsa tried to work out what had just happened.

"Your foot moved." Elsa frowned at her sister. It was impossible. She couldn't feel anything down there, couldn't make anything move. How was it even remotely possible her foot had moved? Or maybe Anna was just imagining things because she'd bounced on the bed and Elsa's foot had bounced with the mattress.

"I didn't _feel_ anything, Anna; and I certainly didn't move it myself."

Anna looked away, shame clouding her face. "But I saw your foot move. I saw it."

"Are you sure you didn't just bounce on the bed?"

"No." Anna's reply was sullen.

"Hey," Elsa spoke softly, placing a hand against Anna's bare leg. "Please don't be sad—I didn't mean to imply you were lying. It's just… it's not possible."

"No, it totally is," Anna replied firmly, smiling. Elsa recognized the expression. It was the one her sister wore whenever a plan was in the offing. "I'll prove it. Watch."

And Elsa watched intently as Anna's fingers pressed against the sole of her foot, moving around in a rapid and chaotic motion. She still couldn't feel anything. But she did see something. Something she never expected. Her foot twitched. Not more than a quarter of an inch, but she had indeed seen it move. Anna was right. The question now was how this was happening—and did it have anything to do with the way those icy fractals had traced down her legs in the bath?

"Did you see it?" Anna was suddenly full of energy, almost bouncing from the mattress. "Here. Hold still. I'll do it again. See?"

"I saw it, Anna, but how… how is it possible?"

Anna shrugged, smiling. "Maybe we should ask the castle physician tomorrow."

"Maybe we should," Elsa agreed quietly, changing tack. Enough strangeness for one night. "Do your legs still hurt?"

"A little. I just feel kinda cold."

"Does this help?" Elsa asked, just a little too coy, massaging her sister's calf with the hand resting there.

"It's not a foot rub."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Anna wisely remained quiet, rolling on to her stomach, propping up her chin against her forearm. Elsa struggled to sit up, carefully forming a small rest of ice to support her back and hips as she leaned over her sister's legs. She placed one hand either side of Anna's left calf, her fingers working against her sister's supple skin, her thumbs pressing deeply into the muscle of her sister's calf. She blushed slightly as she recalled where she'd learned this massage—a book that had no right appearing in any upstanding library. A book written in Sanskrit, with… lavish… illustrations to accompany its works. How her father had acquired such a book she didn't know, but it was apparently tied to a specific kind of magic.

Apparently any kind of magic had been worth researching, and given the stories coming from Assam and the middle east, maybe magic was indeed stronger there. Of course Elsa hadn't been told about the book until she was sixteen—although it had apparently been in the castle for several years prior to that—and she hadn't been allowed to read it for a further year and a half, as her reward for learning Sanskrit. She never thought she would have been able to employ the knowledge contained within—with anyone, let alone her sister.

Shaking her head, Elsa moved her hands down, thumbs working circles in Anna's lower calf muscle, Anna sighing in contentment. Elsa rolled her eyes—did her sister not know how much more awkward such sounds made this task? Then there was the fact that she wanted to hear her sister make those noises, for many reasons. Elsa wanted to slap herself. Hard. Such thoughts would not be entertained by her—except, of course, they always were. Much as she tried constantly to suppress such thoughts, they always returned. Usually at the least helpful of times.

Elsa gently plied the skin around her sister's ankles, and Anna twitched. Even more when Elsa's fingers brushed against the soles of her feet. She was laughing too. She pulled her foot free and rolled slightly to look back at Elsa. "That really tickles—and where did you learn that?"

"I read it somewhere," Elsa replied honestly, hoping her blush didn't show in the evening light. "Think you'll sleep soundly now?"

"Only if you massage my other leg first…" And to Elsa the most worrying thing was the devious grin her sister was currently wearing. "…and tell me why Hank kissed you at dinner."

Elsa froze, looking straight ahead and not seeing a thing. Not even seeing her magic dusting Anna's sole with gossamer ice. Not feeling the slight drop in temperature around the room.

"Okay, okay, just stop tickling me. If you didn't want to tell me you could have just said so." But Anna was still giggling.

"Anna… I wasn't touching your foot."

Anna rolled and sat up, pulling up her leg so she could see the sole of her foot. "Huh. Ice… did you know you could do that?"

"Make ice like that?" Elsa nodded. "Yes. That it tickles people, no."

"Well then we've got some more experiments to do—I mean, next time we do—but right now you owe me a massage and a scandalous rumour."

"Anna."

"Go ahead, tell me you didn't encourage him to kiss you."

Elsa blushed, her sister knew very well that it was impossible to deny that claim. Also because it was something she had been hoping for for a very long time now—although she was fairly sure Anna knew that, their own interactions notwithstanding. Then there was a part of Elsa that wanted to tell Anna everything, because it felt that news like that simply couldn't be contained.

"Maybe I did encourage him," she finally admitted. "And I'm kind of proud of myself for being so daring."

"And you should be, too. It's not every day you surprise me enough that my food goes all over my boyfriend's shirt."

And here Elsa saw the opportunity for a perfect riposte. "I think you just wanted to give him an excuse to take it off." She smiled mischievously at her sister. "Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong."

Anna blushed, then frowned, then made a face at her sister. It was adorable, even when she tried to stifle a yawn and wound up overbalancing into the pillows.

"I think you should get some sleep."

Anna crawled under the covers, flashing her sister a toothy grin. "And I think you should go sleep with Hank."

"Anna!"

"What?" And the redheaded and highly devious princess was the picture of innocence. Elsa sighed, fidgeting with the crucifix at her neck.

"Good night, Anna." Then Elsa leaned over to kiss her sister's cheek. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Anna rolled sideways, falling off a cold stone bench with a too thin blanket that barely covered her, let alone gave any warmth. She was in a cell, in a dungeon, somewhere. Løkarna—that was what Elsa had called the place. She was wearing trousers, stained with something she didn't want to think too strongly about, but that came to her in a distant recent memory of being left half naked in the night rain, longing for her sister. Her chest hurt, bound by bandages that only just preserved her modesty. Her left wrist hurt, burned with a cold fire, dried blood trailing down her arm. There was no way to scrub it off.

She stood slowly, shaky on unsteady legs that felt like solid ice. She staggered, pain shooting up through her legs. Well, at least she could feel something. But she couldn't _hear_ anything, and that was wrong. She had been taken by the soldiers of Weselton, and she remembered their red jackets well. They should have been talking, possibly mocking her, threatening her sister, but they weren't.

Leaning against the door to her cell Anna was surprised when it creaked open. It hadn't been locked. She let out a quiet breath, because outside her cell her guard—and most loathsome of the soldiers—Sten, had been frozen solid, as she once had been. Elsa had been here. Somewhere. The question was where was she now, and why hadn't she tried to rescue Anna? Then Anna recalled that moment with the knife, and seeing her sister's body, unable to speak. But it had only been a dream—and yet she was still unsure.

Anna moved carefully past the icy statue that was her former guard, and at the end of the hall she could see a pile of snow on the floor. Rolling around in that snow were several large, icy marbles. Perfect crystal spheres, each containing a different snowflake at the centre. Splinters and shards of ice lay nearby, and Anna recognized them as being part of Elsa's chair. Her sister had been here, but where was she now? What had happened? With a growing sense of dread forming a great pit in her stomach, Anna made her way up the stairs, out of the dungeon.

Something touched her shoulder and caught her hair, and she turned, lashing out behind her. The icy form of Sten crashed down the stairs, shattering when it hit the third step from the bottom, a rainbow of glittering ice scattering across the cold stone floor. She fell to her knees, aghast. She had hated Sten, maybe even wanted him to die. But being frozen should have been punishment enough. Now she knew she had destroyed him completely. There was nothing left, no body to bury, and no soul to send to Hel.

Breathing heavily, she stood, looking at the great door in front of her, hard wood covered in iron banding, with a giant locking bar that she could only just slide aside. The door opened inward, and she half hid behind it as she dragged it open. The scene before her was enough to make her gorge rise. There were bodies—bodies with large holes blasted through them from gunfire and magic. Frozen bodies. Worse still, scattered around the room were _parts_ of bodies. Arms. Legs. Hands. Heads. She turned to run and slammed into something solid and unyielding, falling to the floor.

Mikkel looked down on her, blood staining the front of his shirt, the handle of a dagger sticking out of his chest. He picked her up without effort, one hand around her throat, and slammed her against the wall, dazing her. His other hand ripped through the bandages covering her chest. She tried kicking him, but nothing happened. She clawed at his arm, but her reach wasn't long enough to get his face. He wore an evil leer as his free hand tore through her trousers, exposing her every inch to him. She screamed, but the sound that emerged was strangled and pathetic, somehow making it harder to breathe. Her voice was so far gone she couldn't even plead with him to stop.

Something sharp and icy blue plunged through his chest and Mikkel turned, not releasing his grip on Anna. At the back of the room she could see Elsa standing— _standing_ —readying another attack. She was so proud and grateful to see her sister standing and able to rescue her. Until Mikkel pulled the dagger from his chest and threw it at Elsa. Anna screamed again, the dagger striking Elsa in the middle of the chest, crimson blood staining her white dress. She looked down in shock, then fell backwards without another sound.

Anna wept as she saw Kristoff cradling her sister's lifeless form. He wore heavy plate, and drew his sword to meet the icy soldiers now surrounding him. She couldn't see anything else when Mikkel turned back to her, placing his free hand against her stomach, roughly driving her back into the wall. Then he punched her in the stomach hard enough make her retch, and let her fall to the ground, picking her up by the back of the neck.

"Watch!" He commanded, and she couldn't look away as the icy soldiers readied their crossbows, firing bolt after bolt into Kristoff, turning his breastplate into a pincushion of fletchings and crossbow bolts. He fell with an unceremonious crash, blood pouring from between the plates of his armour. Anna closed her eyes and tried to look away. Suddenly she was in the courtyard, at night, Mikkel tying her roughly to the flagpole.

"There's no one to help you anymore girly. We've won, and Arendelle will be ours."

There was nothing to say. Anna knew she was broken. Her sister, dead. Her boyfriend, dead. Her kingdom, fallen. Her own life, forfeit. She heard the twang of a crossbow firing, and felt the white hot pain of the bolt burying itself between her shoulder blades and bursting through her chest, pinning her to the flagpole. Her body was limp, unable to move, and she knew she was dead.

She woke with a start, tangled in her sheets, tears making her cheeks damp. She sniffed sadly, and wasn't quite sure why. She wasn't that broken, was she? No. She wasn't. She couldn't be. Not when Elsa needed her. Not when Arendelle needed her because Elsa needed her. She wouldn't let herself be broken. So why—why did she feel so helpless? Shivering, pulling the blankets around her, she felt helpless and alone. She hated it. Hated the dream for what it was. Hated it for forcing her to go back. For being such a nightmare of loss and suffering. For forcing her to lose everything before it killed her.

She let out a quiet sob. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. She was supposed to be better. She could think about some of these things without going back there. They were only memories, and memories couldn't hurt her. Except in her dreams. She shivered but threw the covers back. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't like being alone. And sometimes, being alone was too scary. Just like leaving the castle.

She padded barefoot down the hall, and somehow found herself on the second floor, outside a door she knew. She blinked. Why was she here instead of in front of her sister's door? But for some reason her heart froze at the idea of telling Elsa her nightmare. Anna knocked gently on the door. There was no answer, so she opened it quietly, and in the bed Kristoff was snoring. It didn't matter. She threw herself at him and wrapped her arm around him, taking comfort in his warmth and solidity.

Less comfortable when he woke and somewhat roughly pushed her aside. "Anna?" He was stunned. "It's three in the morning."

"I had a nightmare," she whispered in reply, wrapping her arm around him again.

"I'll keep you safe," he mumbled reassuringly, embracing her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder, kissing her forehead before starting to doze again. It seemed a little thing, but to Anna his embrace meant the world—or meant the world could be kept at bay, and for the rest of the night she managed to sleep soundly, jostled only occasionally by an elbow in the ribs, not knowing she occasionally kicked him in her sleep.


	71. Subtle Machinations

Elsa lay on her bed, alone. Her door was not locked, but she had wedged a chunk of ice against it, because she did not want to be interrupted and lose her train of thought. Her sister had been very right in demanding they run experiments—and getting her to play with magic. A task that right now was proving quite frustrating to the young queen, unable to replicate her unconscious or subconscious abilities. She knew well that there must have been some connection still to her legs, given the way ice had formed around them in the bath, or around her feet. But taking her thoughts back to what she had been thinking of those times, she couldn't replicate it.

She could create ice around her legs, trace the fractals down them, but she couldn't make them form the magic on their own. Not like had happened in the bath. She could create ice around her ankles, but even trying to think of all the things she shouldn't have around Anna, she couldn't make it happen that way it had in the bath. Then she began to wonder if perhaps it was the bath that was important for those things to happen, and _that_ was definitely something to tell her sister.

Then came her efforts to provoke some kind of movement out of her legs. Or feet. Or even just her toes. Encased in ice she could manipulate her legs and feet, but was unable to make them move of her own accord. Ice just touching her sole had no effect. Feathery snow was not enough to tickle her foot. Elsa let out an angry huff. Why did things have to be so hard? Why did Anna have to want the impossible? Five years or fifty, she'd said she would stand for Anna, no matter how long it took. And if it proved to be impossible? Elsa sighed again. If it proved to be impossible Anna would be hurt, yet again, and Elsa didn't know if she could help her sister cope with that kind of pain. To accept the futility of the issue.

But Anna was so _sure_. Sure of everything. Sure, and brave, and determined, and unaccustomed to giving up. If there was a way, Elsa knew her sister would be the one to find it. Or _make_ it. Just because it seemed impossible to solve now, didn't have to mean it always would be. Perhaps that was for the best. Or perhaps it was better, because not only would Anna be helping her; but helping hundreds, maybe even thousands of people bound to wheelchairs and crutches by injury or disease. Elsa smiled. It was entirely possible that Anna would indeed find a way, even if she had to make it up herself.

It was something Elsa was finding frustratingly difficult to try and do on her own. To move her foot, at all, by the actions of her mind and body, not of her magic or the bedsprings. But not being able to move her legs also gave her an odd sense of relief—why, she couldn't say, it just did. Somehow it also seemed right that in order to make her foot move it required Anna's touch—not simply anyone's touch, which might have been true—but Anna's touch. Only and specifically. Something special; a sign of progress; of hope; just for them. And Elsa hoped to someday see Anna's dream fulfilled—to stand once again on her own two feet.

Elsa sighed, tiredly waving her left hand, thawing and dispelling the block of ice holding her door shut. If her experiments were going nowhere then there was no point in keeping anyone out. It had also seemed better than locking the door—not something she wanted to do ever again. Not if she could at all avoid it. Putting herself beneath the sheets, Elsa smoothed down the covers she could reach, worrying about her tasks for the next day. It would be Monday, which meant that in the afternoon she would once more be meeting with the council. That, in itself, was not so worrying.

At least not so far as it concerned two of the five council members. The trade deal with Spain was complete, and by the end of the day, or perhaps Tuesday, the Spanish clipper would be leaving port. She doubted trade minister Johanssen would have much to say about that, but then he might be encouraged to broker another deal, this time with the Southern Isles, given their somewhat misguided attempt at helping Arendelle, and their definite overture towards rebuilding an alliance of some kind. As for what to do with the brothers she had little idea. Maybe it would be easiest to simply send them on their way, and be done with it. It wasn't a nice thing to do, but she could be civil about it. Then, given what they had wrought, perhaps an icy reception was best—though she knew they were likely to try again; and perhaps stood a chance of making a better impression with that attempt.

Then there was the mystery of what miss Ostberg-Lang did outside of council hours. Not so much something for discussion, but a curiosity about the woman who served as the council's advisor. A study in contrasts at times, seemingly able to rally the council, to collect them whenever they wandered, and able to freely propose radical solutions to difficult problems—given her contribution to the issue of Weaseltown's fleet, at least. She was also more dangerous than she looked, having survived an attempt on her life by the traitor Larsson, and taking his knife as a prize.

Elsa sighed, rolling over, her mind refusing to rest. She was still concerned about what little was left of Weaseltown's fleet, even if they had ostensibly surrendered. She still wouldn't trust anyone from that nation as far she could throw their diminutive Duke. It was unlikely they would attack the Spanish clipper as it left, given Spain's vast superiority in naval power and sizeable army—easily enough to occupy Weaseltown for many months or even years. Perhaps, in time, that was something she could ask if Spain became a closer ally.

But other elements of the Duke's minor nation posed their own problems. Like Larsson, guilty thrice over for his crimes against Arendelle, the council, and her personally. Elsa hated him even more—and the Duke by extension—for what their plans had forced her to do. Four of her countrymen, a traitor, and the son of a good man, were to be put to death. On her orders. By her judgement. They would have trials, but none would exonerated. She would not pardon them—not even Søren's son—because they had all been willing to kill her, and as much as she feared her decision, she wanted to see justice done. She knew her people wanted justice also, and if she didn't mete it out, her citizens might take it into their own hands, as they had on the docks.

That left the problem of Count Langenberg, the Duke's protege, currently locked in the castle dungeon. He was the man responsible for all of her suffering in recent weeks. For all of Anna's suffering. She wanted nothing more than to go down into the dungeons and inflict on him every torture his men had inflicted on her sister; even those only implied and not done. She wanted to make him suffer, and to have him die from that suffering. She wanted to, so very badly, despite how monstrous it would make her. Because Anna was her sister, precious, unspoiled, and never to hurt by her mistakes. Never again.

But she was afraid of what would become of her if she killed someone like that. If she killed at all. She had done it once, she had seen it done; seen men die for their country, defending that fort. It filled her with dread, knowing she had the power to end lives like that. Not only by orders she could give, but with her powers. With her hands. It had been a chilling revelation of how fragile life really was. Of how lucky she had been that Anna was still alive.

That was something she had not discussed with bishop Gudbrand, not since the last council meeting. It was something she knew she would have to revisit. Not that she wanted to, but she felt she had to, to come to peace with the fact that she was a killer—even if it had been done in the defense of another. It was something she would just have to accept, and live with. She smiled sadly. That was one question she certainly could have posed to her father, had he still been around. And even though he was her best confidante, she didn't think could talk with Kai about it, for despite his skill at fencing, he was harmless. At least, she'd never seen him use violence, and seldom did he even raise his voice.

Elsa shifted again, lying on her back, turning slightly to look out her window. The northern lights danced across the sky, green and blue, with occasional streaks of red shooting high into the midnight sky. Once or twice she caught an odd flash of yellow, tinting part of the green, but always gone before she could blink. Anna used to say the sky was awake, and tonight Elsa felt the same way. She couldn't rest. Sleep eluded her as her mind circled her worries and fears for the coming days, constantly dancing around every major issue.

She was even worried about Hank. About what Marshal Gerhardt might say to her requesting his promotion to captain, and his recommendation for the Star of Arendelle. She would have to cross that bridge when she came to it. If need be she could order a promotion through royal edict, but for the Star she could not, and would not, take such drastic action. And of the Marshal, she wondered how much he had managed to learn from Count Langenberg—and if any of what he had learned had been in the least part useful to their future plans.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. Trying not to conceal, but to ignore everything around her. She just wanted to sleep—was it so much to ask on this night? She dozed fitfully, enough that the moon had moved visibly across the sky, but deeper sleep eluded her. Annoyed at herself she threw the covers back, conjuring her chair. If she was going to be awake, then damn it, she was going to be _useful_. She wasn't sure how, but there were still stacks of letters and bills and grievances all stored in her office. It would give her something to do.

Two inventories, a minor land claim, and a polite refusal to an offer of courtship from a young but uninspiring baron from the border kingdom of Ahmstad. To the border kingdoms she knew she would have to make amends to Løkarna, for the damage suffered by their fort. An act of good faith, and one she knew she should have been considering anyway, even if the locals had no idea what had happened. To the idea of courtship, well, she had Hank. She felt a slight blush colouring her cheeks as she smiled. Of course there was Hank, the only man brave enough to reach out to her; to protect her; and to get entertainingly flustered anytime she mentioned getting dressed or taking baths with his help.

Yes, it really was fun to tease her _houscarl_ sometimes, but it would have been nice if he would tease her back as well. Perhaps sometimes he did, because she could recall admonishing him a few times for innocent jokes or comments at her expense. There was also the way he had kissed her hand at dinner, even if perhaps she had encouraged him more than a little. Maybe it was a proper courtship, starting very small, from the beginning. She liked that thought. Yawning widely she covered her mouth and blinked. When had she gotten so tired?

It didn't matter. She set her quill aside and sealed the ink pot. Her eyes lost focus as she conjured a snow pillow on her desk, and she made one attempt at gathering her hair before she fell forward, into the snow, breathing softly as she finally fell asleep. Her hair fell around her shoulders and spread out over her desk like a messy halo. Her gentle breathing stirred flurries of snow across the desk, some of it taking on crystalline colours in the moonlight. She saw none of this, a subtle smile upon her lips as her dreams began.

* * *

Hank woke swiftly, throwing the covers aside and standing, rubbing a hand against his jaw. He would need to shave again soon. He pulled his uniform on, wondering if perhaps his style and cut of clothing should change now that he was going to be a captain. Maybe it should have changed when he became Queen Elsa's _houscarl_. It might even have to change more, if she did indeed court him, and he became prince consort of Arendelle. He shivered. He didn't want any power, let alone the level of power that implied.

Even having some small power over Elsa was discomfiting. Even after she had given him permission to use it. Power was not something he was accustomed to having, or using, and he was afraid of misusing it. No one had been kind enough to tell him what good such power might be used for, and he'd had a great amount of trouble trying to figure it out on his own. Yet, if Elsa gave him that power—and gave it freely—then who was he to refuse, no matter how uncomfortable it made him?

The light outside his window was the wan glow of pre-dawn sunlight. Early enough that Elsa might not yet be awake, so he made his way to the third floor, and Elsa's door. It was cracked open, and after a quick look inside he could tell she wasn't present in the room. That was not so strange, sometimes she and Anna would share rooms, in case of nightmares, to help Anna's recovery, he supposed—and also because sometimes Elsa seemed to need her sister's presence, to gain some courage; or energy; or perhaps heart. Meanwhile she seemed to temper Anna's behaviour; rein in her schemes—such as wanting to train as a warrior.

Anna's room was the next place he checked, and Hank was surprised to find the sisters absent from there as well. It was also a little concerning. Elsa might possibly be having breakfast—he had yet to check the kitchens—but Anna would not normally wake until much later in the day, so where had _she_ got to? Or had Elsa forced Anna to wake up, to face the day, and taken her to breakfast so they could talk? Hank frowned, retracing his steps, heading to the ground floor and into the kitchens. No one there had seen either of the royal sisters, but Kai, taking his breakfast in the servant's dining room, stated that neither of them could have left the castle without his knowledge.

Still, the castle was a big place to search. He wondered if it were possible that Elsa and Anna were planning to enjoy the sunrise, in which case they would be in the conservatory on the second floor of the east wing. But they weren't there either. He'd passed the ballroom earlier, and on a whim he had looked inside, seeing nothing other than a large slab of ice. It might have had something on it, but in the dim light—and looking only from the door—he hadn't been able to make out any detail. It meant Elsa had been there, but he couldn't be sure when.

There was one more place to search before he would be truly worried. Because if Elsa was awake, and had already eaten, then she would most likely be taking care of her royal duties, which meant she would be in her office. Working. He did find her in her office, but she wasn't working. Her hair was unbound, falling messily over the desk and spilling off the edge. She wore only a simple nightgown, and the sleeves looked ruffled, as if perhaps they had been pulled up to avoid dragging them across something. Dawn sunlight was beginning to spill into the room, not yet enough to overpower the gaslamps' flickering light.

In that light Hank saw a flash of silver, and moved closer to Elsa. Lying against the desk was a silver chain, and on the end of it was a cross. It hung around her neck, and had somehow fallen from the collar her nightgown. Small flakes of snow surrounded it, and as he looked closer he could see Elsa was resting on a small pile of snow, her soft breath dusting the flakes across her icy desk. A gentle smile arched her lips and he drew back, not wanting to disturb her when she seemed so restful.

Instead he sat quietly in the chair opposite her, relieved to have found her safe and sound. Finding princess Anna would be an issue for later, for now he would stay with Elsa, making sure no one bothered her. Time passed, marked only by the lightening of the sun against the walls, slowly growing strong enough to overpower the gaslamps. At that point Elsa stirred, eyes opening slowly, blinking at the sudden light. She turned slightly, and saw Hank. The subtle smile didn't leave her lips. He smiled back, as welcoming as he could manage, trying to brighten the first moments of her day.

"Good morning, your majesty. You were sleeping so soundly I did not wish to wake you."

"Thank you," her voice was slightly husky, having the breathless quality of one not quite fully awake. "I slept well. I did not think my desk would prove so comfortable."

"I do not think you should make a habit of it, your maj—" he caught the look she was giving him. "Elsa. No matter how comfortable that desk seems, I doubt it would be as restful as a soft mattress and a warm blanket."

"You would be right," Elsa laughed softly. "But the more tired you are, the less you care about comfort, and the more you care about simply finding a place to rest your head. Now that I am rested"—a yawn gave lie to her statement almost immediately—"I think it best I change into something more appropriate for the day."

"Then perhaps I should find Gerda for you."

"Later, for now, would you simply accompany me to my room?" Hank nodded. It was easy enough to agree to something that simple. "And we can talk about dinner; your actions last night." Hank frowned, following Elsa out the door. He had acted impulsively, showing his gratitude for what she had done for him, and now he was afraid he had done something wrong. Why else would she want to talk about it?

"I—" he began, unable to find words to apologize before Elsa cut him off, laughing softly.

"No, Hank, you did nothing wrong. In fact, I might have encouraged you, at least a little. I _wanted_ you to kiss me."

"Queen Elsa?" It made sense. For weeks now they had been growing closer, and he had admitted his feelings to her; and she to him. To share a touch, to kiss, that was the next step in a proper courtship. Although sometimes it seemed that she might have been more interested in the courtship part than the properness of it. Lost in thought he missed what she said next, asking her to repeat it with an embarrassed cough.

"You're not part of the nobility, Hank. You're not a royal, so you didn't have to follow every stuffy rule ever invented just to look proper for your people. You didn't grow up in the society I did, and I like that very much about you. You grew up, I'm guessing, as a military man through and through, earning your place in the Royal Marines. You're an officer, and a gentleman—even if some of those in higher society might consider your military nature boorish. But beyond all that you are still noble, and more than anything you are worthy, and perhaps I am being selfish, but I want that from you. As not just my _houscarl_ but also as my _friend_."

"Your… friend?" Hank spoke slowly, trying out the word to see if it fit what was between them. It did, but it somehow seemed less than what they shared. "I thought royalty did not have the privilege of friends, only allies and neighbours."

"I fear you may have been misinformed, but in any case, I am not most royalty," then she smiled at him, the same smile he recalled from several nights ago, when he had first revealed he had feelings for his liege. He wanted to see that smile again. He placed a hand on Elsa's shoulder, and she slowed, bringing her own hand up to meet it. He spoke quietly when she looked up at him.

"I would always have been your friend."

* * *

"Søren, open up!" Vanja Ostberg-Lang slammed her fist against the door of his workshop. She knew he was sleeping in there—knew because she'd half dragged him back there when he'd been falling down drunk at Hus av Strykejern. It was only early in the morning, but she got the feeling that the head guildsman might need extra time to make himself presentable today. A great deal of banging and cursing came from the workshop, Søren obviously stumbling around inside. He made it to the door at last, opening it just before Vanja could bash on it again. She did a double take when she saw him.

He really was a mess, bags under his eyes, bits of something in his beard—something that might even be smouldering—hair unkempt and tangled, shirt crumpled, and with a stain down one side she did not want to ask about. It looked like he'd slept in those clothes—but she was not a nursemaid. She was simply here to remind of certain particulars of his duty to the council. He placed one hand against the doorframe, leaning heavily on it, bowing his head. He'd finally realized why she was there.

"I know, council meeting this afternoon. I'll be there."

"Good. I'd suggest taking a bath too. You're filthy, and… well, it doesn't suit you," Vanja was walking away, but she had some final words to deliver. "Pull yourself together."

He was better than that, and she knew it. But he was also facing the death of his only son. She was willing to grant him some leeway for that. Some. And he'd tried holding her hand again, muttering half-drunkenly about valkyries and Fenrir, and something about scrimshaw. It didn't make much sense, but she felt he'd been beyond making sense at that point. He'd still been gracious when she half-dragged him to his workshop, and even blind drunk hadn't tried anything more than simply to hold her hand—or arm and shoulder—but by that time it was probably to keep himself from falling any further.

Vanja shrugged, whatever it was, it was his issue. The next person on her list was Per Johanssen, and that meeting turned out to be as perfunctory as it was possible to be without being rude. But he did say he was glad that the Spanish were able to get under sail once more, unaware that the delay was caused by captain Ortiz's drunken boasting and insistence that he could drink anyone under the table. He'd needed the weekend to recover. Saturday, at least, and being superstitious he'd not set out on Sunday either.

Justicar Kristoffersen was not at his house, his wife, Sigrid, answering the door, holding baby Siri to her breast. "He's run away to work again. I swear that Ansa is a temptress, the way he speaks of her."

"She's his protege, along with Torsten. He has a right to be proud of them—one of them may well be our next Justicar, then he can retire to a life of wailing infants and annoying the bishop."

"He and Clarence are good friends, Vanja."

"And I know for a fact they have fun annoying one another when talking science and religion. I listened to them debate it for an hour."

"Why?"

"Because the king told me to, to better understand them. Still don't."

"You will one day."

"Maybe. I'll find your husband in the hall of justice?"

Sigrid nodded in reply.

Vanja found the Justicar in the hall of justice, sitting in his official capacity. Before him stood six men. Four of them she didn't recognize, though the one in the middle might have been corporal Naess's brother. At one end stood Stefan Larsson, not so masterful a spy as he had thought. She idly wondered how much of a stir she might cause if she returned the favour by stabbing him. Then again, he would be dead within a week, so why waste the energy. The sixth man was barely past youth, and had distinctive red hair along with a lanky build. He must have been Søren's son. Konrad. And that was most of the reason Søren had been getting so drunk last night.

Justicar Kristoffersen announced a recess, and Vanja approached the bench. He gave a subtle shake of his head as she closed.

"I have to be here, overseeing this trial. Torsten will stand for me in the council today. Please give the queen my apologies for being unable to attend."

"Yet you scheduled this trial for a Monday?"

"To resolve the matter as swiftly as possible, yes. Now go, I had a reason for calling that recess," The Justicar stepped from behind the bench, speaking over his shoulder as he left the room. "And if you haven't already seen him, tell Clarence that the real monster here is the Duke."

Vanja nodded, making her way from the hall of justice to the chapel. As seemed to be usual for a Monday, the bishop was cleaning, alternating between sweeping the floor and dusting the pews. He didn't look up, but spoke almost as soon as she was through the door.

"Good morning, miss Ostberg-Lang. Tell me, have you seen Hanne yet?"

"I have," Vanja paused in the middle of the aisle. "He said to tell you that the Duke was the real monster."

"Much as I suspected then, thank you. I doubt I will have much to say at the meeting this afternoon, but you will still find me there. I still don't understand how less than two hundred people can make such a mess of the house of the Divine."

Vanja took that as her cue to leave, only one person now remained. Her one-time mentor and the man who had managed to gain her appointment to the council. Marshal Markus Gerhardt. He was at the barracks, at the edge of town. He was sitting in front of a map of the harbour and the fjord, miniature ships placed upon it. He moved one, squinted at the map, then moved two more opposing ships. His close cropped hair had been slicked back, and he was wearing black leather gloves. Whatever it was that was bothering him about strategy was serious.

"I need to speak with the Southern Isles' commander," he spoke without preamble, addressing her directly. "His victory is so close to Nelsonian as to be uncanny."

"I thought it was our victory, given we captured the Count and a prince."

"The Southern Isles' prince, if you'll recall, miss Ostberg-Lang. The Count is a nobody, and likely an imbecile in matters of strategy. I had the displeasure of questioning him at the end of the week. Though I will admit it was satisfying to destroy him so thoroughly."

"Has the queen any idea what to do with him?"

"I will be raising that matter in council this afternoon. Someone must. About the Southern Isles as well—they would make a powerful ally."

"And you would like to talk to their naval commander in private, I assume?"

"I would. Let the queen know, if she must. And if the Southern Isles' should prove as untrustworthy as their last emissary, then all the better I should know well their commander."

Vanja smiled darkly. "I shall take my leave then. I will see you again in council."


	72. The Council Abides

Buí woke with a start. The sun was already high in the sky, visible through the mouth of the cave he'd slept in. Overslept. He chewed on an overcooked strip of venison as breakfast. He could have salted all the meat, but he wanted to save the salt for an emergency—or if he needed to make a long trip and wouldn't be able to hunt. His left leg and arm still ached, not healing properly. He suspected the bullet might still be in his leg, but even with his knowledge as a physician he wouldn't attempt to remove it. It was too risky, and it seemed like it had at least _started_ healing, so maybe it just required more time.

He had explored the forest extensively over the past few days, and returning to the standing stones he'd found one of them covered in ice, with snow falling around the base of it, just a few inches above the ground. It was a fascinating mystery, infernal though it might have been, he had no explanation—unless, the thought came to him suddenly, that this was the place from which the witch-queen drew her power. Imagine the reward if he didn't kill her, but simply took away her powers…

Buí knelt and dug his hands into the cold, hard earth, scooping away the snow and soil. Buried here, somewhere, was the source of everything—of all the witch-queen's power—and he was going to take it from her. Something sharp jabbed at his fingers, and when he looked down he saw spikes of ice growing out from the standing stone. Long and thin, like the quills of a feather, but razor sharp at the tip, some bearing drops of blood. Buí looked at his hands—tiny pinpricks covered them. He scrambled back from the standing stones. Trying to take the magic appeared much more dangerous than he'd first thought. Especially as it seemed more than capable of defending itself.

Cleaning his hands in the stream, Buí tried to think of a way to get past the spikes, something to break them and prevent them regrowing. Nothing. But he had time, he was sure. No one else knew he was alive. Not the soldiers he had been with at the fort. Not the witch-queen. Not her sister. Not even his family—if he'd had one. He wasn't sure, and he had no way to find out. But for now the fact that no one knew he was alive was his biggest advantage. It meant he could take as long as he wanted solving these problems. It meant he could learn how to solve them right, not just fast. And dealing with infernal magic, that was more important than ever.

* * *

The afternoon sun streamed through high windows into the centre of the council chamber, illuminating the massive oaken table at the centre of the room. Elsa looked cautiously over her shoulder, neither Hank nor her sister had followed her in. She let out a nervous breath. It was better, safer, they had only to remain close while she attempted this. It had been Anna's idea, once again, commenting on the see-through nature of the ice composing Elsa's chair. It would also mark this chamber, this council, as being hers—yet it would not leave a mark on anything.

Closing her eyes she could feel the magic building within her, and though she did not yet know from whence it came, it was always there, both when she wanted it, and when she did not. Placing both hands against the lower panes of the window she took a shaky breath. She needed to concentrate carefully to get this right. Eyes still closed, she could see the shape in her mind's eye. Narrow skeins wove up around the leading of the window. It was a simple shape. The skeins met somewhere shy of the apex. Elsa removed her hands, and the skeins whipped away, vanishing into the simple form of the shape.

Six sides. No detail. But it was translucent, casting a sharp edged shadow against the council's table. Elsa tapped the window and the shape exploded into life, branching and plating and covering a greater area as it formed the symbol that was hers and hers alone. The snowflake. Just like the floor of her ice palace. Just like the top of the flagpole. Just like the back of her chair. That snowflake was hers, and suddenly she had an idea for a gift for Anna; though she might need Søren's—or perhaps the guilds'—help. She turned, taking in the top of the massive oak table.

The shadow there had a slight hint of blue, taking away some of the warmth from the colour of the wood. It was subtle though, and the other council members might not notice that aspect of it enough to pass comment on it. She called out to her _houscarl_ and her sister. Both entered the chamber almost immediately—so immediately that they almost got stuck in the door until Anna turned sideways. Elsa smiled, giving her sister a knowing grin. Anna stuck out her tongue.

"Wow, Elsa, that's really cool." Anna looked at the table, then at the window, then back down at the table again. "So it's kinda like stained glass then, right, except you can't make different colours but your palace was _blue_ , and then there was the purple bit and oh, we'll try that next, alright?"

Elsa smiled at her sister. "It might not be today, is that okay with you?" And Elsa continued to smile because that little ramble was so much like the old Anna it hurt—and she hated having to make such a distinction in the first place. There should not have to have been an Anna from before, and an Anna for now; yet there was. She wondered if she would ever see the wonder of that older version of her sister ever again—the true, unabashed, and perhaps slightly naive wonder that had made her such a joy to be around. The sadness struck first, and then a white hot spike of anger, because this was her own fault for being a poor sister, and moreover the fault of Weaseltown for being so… so… so… and Elsa found she lacked the words to express the depth of what she felt towards the ruler of that petty little nation, and his lapdog, and the greatest monster she had ever known in her life. Torturing her sister just to hurt her; to try and control her—what kind of person did that?

There was a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She turned to look up into the face of her _houscarl_. He smiled back at her. "Breathe. That's all you have to do." And she laughed, taking Hank's hand in her own and smiling up at him. Maybe it wasn't that easy, but it drove out the fear and hate for a time. She smiled again. And suddenly she found herself hoping that Marshal Gerhardt had been most unkind when questioning the Count she now kept in the dungeon. The Count she knew not what to do with.

Anna chose that moment to duck out of the room, speaking softly. "I–I think one of your council people is here and I'm not ready to meet them yet, alright, and I'll just be in room, or with Joan, or… I don't know, something. Umm, do I still have to fetch them?"

Elsa shook her head in reply, but Anna wasn't looking. "No, I'll send Hank. _You_ just focus on getting better, okay?"

"Okay." Anna departed with a smile that was almost painfully bright, and in her eyes Elsa could see the effort her sister was going to just to make her feel a little better. It worked, and it didn't, for exactly the same reason. Elsa sighed, motioning Per Johanssen into the council chamber.

"Lieutenant Erikson, if you could prepare the Westergard twins to be brought before us?" Hank bowed slightly and left. Elsa hoped that at least Frederik had stayed, or that perhaps Nikolaus had managed to make it back in time. Nikolaus had said something about needing to be back on his ship before his men were tempted to do something reckless—what, he hadn't specified, but she got the distinct impression that it was something the commodore might have set up himself.

"The Southern Isles have sent us an emissary?"

"I suppose so, their Crown Prince, Frederik, and his twin brother, Nikolaus."

"Have they offered any gifts or weregild as recompense for their brother's trespasses against yourself and the princess?"

"No, minister Johanssen, they have not." Elsa frowned as the older man sat in his appointed chair. The concept of weregild hadn't even been mentioned by the Westergard twins, and they came bearing no gifts, but—and she was willing to grant them some leeway because of this—their initial meetings and introductions had been far from formal or properly prepared for.

An unfamiliar face was the next man into the room, taking in the space at a glance. He had an immaculately groomed blonde beard and matching hair, cut quite short. As Elsa looked closer she could tell that strands of his beard had been braided, and on a few such braids were what appeared to be beads and small runic talismans. He wore a finely tailored suit of grey wool with a crimson jacket, and on the middle finger of his right hand was a signet ring bearing the Justicar's seal. The man bowed deeply to Elsa and introduced himself.

"Your majesty, my name is Torsten Halstrom, and Justicar Kristoffersen has sent me in his stead. He asked me to convey his apologies for not being here, and to ask your forbearance as he presides over the trials of the accused—it was not a matter he would trust to a lesser man."

"Please, sit," Elsa motioned for Torsten to take a chair. "May I assume that Justicar Kristoffersen has given you all the relevant information for this meeting?"

"He has indeed," Torsten sat and withdrew a small leather bound journal from his jacket pocket. "Will we be waiting long for the other council members?"

"No."

Vanja Ostberg-Lang walked in, nodding to Per and Torsten, then giving the queen a perfunctory bow. She sat in her assigned place and immediately withdrew a small journal of her own, annotating something. Elsa caught herself staring and blinked, shaking her head. There was something very strange about the way the council's advisor had styled her hair—a complex hanging braid—several braids, in fact—falling past her shoulders. Elsa looked across from her and back at the simple braids and beads in Torsten's beard. It had to be a coincidence, right?

"Good afternoon, your majesty," bishop Gudbrand bowed as he entered. "Ah, Torsten, I did wonder if Hanne would be sending you or Ansa to take his place today."

"Ansa and Ari were busy corralling the witnesses this morning. I think they're talking with the guilds now, about how and where the gallows should be erected."

Elsa shivered, turning away. She was hugging herself, but her right hand slid across her chest to take hold of the crucifix she wore. She didn't want to be reminded of what had to happen. Of what she had caused to happen. Of what she had decided must happen. She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, centering herself again. When she looked up she saw the bishop smiling at her from across the table.

"May I ask about the new decoration?"

"You recall what I mentioned yesterday?" The bishop nodded so she continued, gesturing to the shadow on the table and the ice on the window. "This is an exploration of optical qualities. It was actually at my sister's suggestion, having recalled some properties of the ice my palace was made of."

"And of your sister?"

"She is doing well, thank you."

Søren and Marshal Gerhardt entered the council chamber without a word, taking their assigned seats. Søren's hair had been gathered in a loose ponytail, and his beard had been combed but Elsa doubted anything could actually _straighten_ that hair. His clothing seemed more subdued than usual, but his eyes were bright, and in a loop at his belt he still carried the hammer that was the symbol of his work.

Marshal Gerhardt was immaculately groomed as always, wearing a fine military suit, and black leather gloves. He glanced over to Torsten, nodded once, then turned to regard Vanja Ostberg-Lang, who wasted no time with the opening statements. Formalities dealt with, Elsa opened the discussion with what she hoped would be perceived as good—or at least neutral—news.

"Before the end of the meeting I will be having a guest of Arendelle join us," a quiet intake of breath, but she couldn't tell where it came from. "Crown Prince Frederik Westergard. He, and his brother Nikolaus, is the reason half of Weaseltown's ships now lie in ruins beneath the waters of the fjord. Frederik has claimed they travelled to make recompense for their youngest brother's actions, but I am as yet unconvinced. However, as the Southern Isles could prove to be a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy, I will not make this decision alone. When Prince Frederik leaves I would like to hear your judgements."

"Your majesty?"

"Yes, miss Ostberg-Lang?"

"Did Frederik command the ships?"

"No, his brother, Nikolaus—he's a Commodore in the Southern Navy."

"And we will not be seeing him?"

"I did not think it would be so important, given their crown prince is also here. Additionally, Nikolaus claimed to have urgent business to take care of on his flagship."

Gerhardt smiled and let out a little laugh. Elsa turned to stare at him.

"A contingency, your majesty," he explained. "Likely in the event he did not return in a set time, a party would be sent to rescue him or some such event. Knowing that we are at worst neutral now I would believe he would rather not have his men charging through Arendelle looking to 'rescue' him from your grasp."

Elsa nodded slowly. "It makes sense. He left it unsaid what his urgency was, but I did indeed get the feeling that the problem was of his own making." Elsa turned to address the rest of the council. "And while we are on the topic of discussing problems, have any of you issues you wish to discuss?"

Søren, Torsten, and Per Johanssen all nodded. Elsa gestured to Søren, hoping this would not be about his son. What she was being forced to do was already hard enough, and she hated herself every time she was reminded of it—but no, it was guild business, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"We are running dangerously low on stocks of precious metals, your majesty, and also especially low in copper, both pure and alloyed. The precious metals are not so important for now, being useful mostly for aesthetic purposes, but the copper is sorely needed, and Weselton was our only supplier. It's important for shipbuilding, for keels and ballast hulls where lead may be unsuitable.

"We also have need of a few textile products, but I believe a trade mission was dispatched before your coronation." At this Søren turned to regard the trade minister, who nodded, confirming the statement. "So the only issue is time, not supply. The mining guild is also calling to be allowed to open a new mine for coal and iron ore beneath the Arendelle mountains, and the ice harvesters remain concerned about your magic possibly putting them out of business."

Elsa rested her head in one hand and smiled. She couldn't help but shake her head. True, the issues with supplies of metal would be an issue, but that was why they were establishing new trading partners, and with the harvest festival coming up they might yet establish more. No, it was the ice harvesters, and she almost laughed. They couldn't know there was no way she would use her magic like that—well, maybe for the castle's ice boxes—because despite being apart from Arendelle at most times, the ice harvesters were still her people, and she wouldn't do anything to take their livelihood from them. Even Kristoff. Even if she supplied the kingdom with ice Elsa suspected the man would go out and work the ice on the mountains just to have something to do. He was a hard worker—so were all of them, really.

"Guildsman Søren," she began. "You can tell the ice harvesters not to worry. I might provide ice for the castle, but I will not take their livelihood from them; though if they should happen to challenge us to a carving contest I will of course show them what I can do. To the mining guild; if they can leave the details of the proposal with me I will see to it in due course, but I predict no difficulty in granting them their request."

"Thank you, Queen Elsa—but the shortages of metals?"

"Mean we may well have to establish new trading partners. Have we enough to last until the harvest festival?"

Søren withdrew a small ledger from his pocket and did a quiet calculation. He nodded slowly. "Perhaps. For some there will be a shortfall until deliveries arrive from whoever we may establish ties with."

"Minister Johanssen, will this affect us strongly in our trade dealings and local economy?"

"Not aversely so, your majesty," the trade minister had his own ledger out, and was scribbling quick calculations in it. "There may need to be a little belt-tightening here and there, but we would recover in no more than six months."

"Six months?"

"To show tangible growth. To recover our previous stockpiles and treasury, etcetera, would take us perhaps two or three months, dependent upon how aggressively we have negotiated our terms."

"I see, thank you Per. Guildsman Søren, is there anything you wish to add?"

"No, Queen Elsa, that's all the guilds have for now."

"Very well. Minister Johanssen, you had issues you wished to raise?"

"In addendum to what guildsman Søren has already raised, for the most part. Our national treasury is also well stocked, but given what we know now, I was going to suggest that our next few major events—the harvest festival, the midwinter ball, and jul—should be perhaps more understated than they have been in the past. This may be less of a problem than you expect, especially if—and only if—you are willing to use your magic as you have displayed upon the window behind yourself. A surprising amount of the budget for any event can be taken by simply decoration and the hiring of labourers to construct or modify the larger features. Would you, your majesty, be wiling to use your magic in such capacity; for embellishment and the like?"

Elsa took a breath—another council member was asking her to actively use her magic, but for entirely different reasons. For eminently practical reasons, in fact. The thought made her slightly uncomfortable; that her magic might be so blatantly used, but again, it would only be for appearance, not effect. Completely different to the ways in which Marshal Gerhardt wanted to see her magic used. And simply used to decorate; for visual effect? It was worth further thought.

"It is not beyond the realm of possibility," Elsa replied to the trade minister. "But I will require more time to think on it."

"It would, your majesty, give all festivals and official events held in Arendelle a unique cultural focus." Vanja Ostberg-Lang spoke firmly. "That may well be something that could be turned to our advantage, with certain people wishing to attend these events simply to discover the majesty of your creations. An attraction, with no cost, but that can bring greater spending power into our economy. I believe it could well help our growth as a kingdom, if done effectively."

Elsa watched Per Johanssen noting something in his ledger while he nodded slowly. He spoke clearly, if somewhat excitably. "I do so agree with miss Ostberg-Lang's assessment of the matter, and to have such an attraction—perhaps only seasonal—but it would be like the colosseum, or the pyramids at Giza, or perhaps the marble arch and arc de Triomphe. Given that the decorations you create could be ephemeral in duration, there may well be even more cause for some to witness them, at least once in their lifetimes. Perhaps also a greater sign that your magic is not to be feared, but held in awe for what it might create."

Elsa felt the tension drain from her shoulders with that last line. It made perfect sense, and there was no reason not to—aside from her fears of course, but Anna was helping with that. And to give Arendelle an economic boost that might so fill its coffers without requiring such strenuous effort from its people; that could only be a good thing. Even if she might be incessantly questioned about her magic, about the process by which she created those things, about where it came from and other questions she might not be able or willing to answer. Maybe not at the harvest festival then, but it would be safe to try by the time of the midwinter ball. Hopefully.

She let out a quiet breath, noticing that her end of the table had begun to frost over. No one had yet commented on it, so she closed her eyes and took a breath, thinking of Anna as she dispelled the frost. When she opened her eyes she turned immediately to Torsten. "You wished to bring something forward on the Justicar's behalf?"

"Yes, your majesty, I did." Torsten unwrapped the journal he had been provided with and quickly leafed through it until he found the relevant section. "Justicar Kristoffersen notes here that there had been a recent spate of thefts the required your attention. He has also noted something about inquiring as to whether they are related to the assassination attempt or not. More recently there has been another string of thefts, through the low quarter of town, but the items being stolen do not have much value, mostly oddments and curios, though an heirloom pocket watch was also taken, but may be unrelated.

"Hus av Strykejern has also complained about the unruly behaviour of some patrons"—and here a glance was spared for miss Ostberg-Lang, who returned it with green eyed fire—"and two nights ago there was a brawl some distance from the barracks—"

Marshal Gerhardt held out a hand for Torsten to pause. "That was a misunderstanding between someone in the artillery corps and some of our guests from the Southern Isles—marines captured with their prince, whom we inadvertently rescued while attacking and capturing Weselton's senior flag officer. It was handled in a brief tribunal and those involved have been disciplined accordingly."

Torsten pursed his lips, putting a small note in the journal in neat, precise script. "Strike that event from the record then; we have no need to discuss it further."

"Is there anything else the Justicar put up for discussion?" Elsa gave Torsten a pointed look.

"No, your majesty. He did request additional men for security around the execution, and also to investigate the thefts."

"Done." Elsa shuddered, hoping her revulsion didn't show. Why did they have to keep reminding her of what she'd done? And hadn't she also assigned several town guards to the Justicar some time prior? She held up a hand before anything could be noted down. "Wait. Torsten, in that journal does it make mention of the Justicar being assigned a number of guards some weeks ago?"

Torsten flicked through the journal until he found what he needed. "Ah, yes, six guards. Dismissed around the time Princess Anna was kidnapped to assist with the search."

"Does it mention their names?"

"In fact it does, your majesty."

"I think it might be best if the Justicar finds those same guards again. He has asked in the past for a constabulary, but while we do not need one yet, having more men trained as both guards and investigators could prove more than useful."

"I do believe the Justicar will be very happy to hear that, your majesty, thank you."

Elsa smiled, then turned to Marshal Gerhardt. Now that the council's issue were out of the way, it was time she discussed hers. "Marshal Gerhardt, what did you learn from our guest in the dungeons?"

Gerhardt placed one hand over a closed fist, staring directly at the queen. Elsa felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine. There was just something about the sheer malice behind that smile.

"First, that Weselton poses no significant military threat anymore. Their ships in the fjord were the only forces they sent—he may not _know_ of a second wave, but given how delayed this first wave has been in their task, I do not think a second wave will ever materialise now, even if one had existed.

"Second, I learned that he—and by extension I would surmise the Duke as well—is terrified by even the barest hint of magic. That, or my storytelling has gotten better with age—though that I doubt.

"Third, and most importantly, I learned that this Count Langenberg is a complete imbecile. How his crews could be so lax, even on the converted troop ships, is beyond me. How his assassins could likewise be so inept, I know not. And how he believes the Hanseatic league will save Weselton I can only laugh at. He is ambitious but uninspired, and all in all a most fitting protege for the Duke himself. He is useless to us either as a prisoner, or ransom—and unfortunately even less useful dead. So, I would suggest we return him with a neutral party."

Elsa sighed softly, clasping her hands together. "That may be difficult, Marshal, because Crown Prince Frederik has said that Langenberg was responsible for the death of his beloved, and has sworn vengeance upon him. Perhaps it is a personal vendetta, but I have striven to keep them as far apart as possible while both remain in my realm."

The marshal stroked his beard, turning contemplative. A quiet knock at the door interrupted him before he could speak. Elsa called for the guests at the door to enter. It was Hank, leading prince Frederik. The timing was a little off, but perhaps it would be better to cover this now, then resume business when Frederik had left. Elsa made a gesture and summoned a seat of ice for him to sit upon. She wondered at her ability to sometimes use her powers so casually—but perhaps she was still trying to intimidate him, as she had the other day in the throne room.

Hank stood at her side, gently laying a hand upon her shoulder before stepping back, clasping his hands behind his back, standing at ease. Elsa motioned to Frederik for him to begin, and as he spoke she watched the members of her council for their reactions, sure that behind her Hank was doing the same. Per Johanssen was the first to address the Southern Prince, asking about any gifts that had been carried to Arendelle with which to open negotiations. Weregild was not mentioned by either side, but Elsa saw Johanssen surreptitiously glancing at his ledger now and then, taking a quick note. Something was mentioned about this particular gift being more suited for the princess than the queen.

Marshal Gerhardt had his arms folded in front of him, sitting patiently, taking in everything the crown prince of the Southern Isles was saying, and also what was left unsaid. He asked a handful of clarifying questions, seeming to contribute to the discussion but in reality revealing nothing while he gleaned as much information as he could from the replies. It was an effective strategy and Elsa found herself willing to applaud the Marshal's efforts. So far he was the one that had baited Frederik into revealing the most.

Søren, on the other hand, was exceedingly quiet, withdrawn almost to the point of being incommunicative. He was clearly preoccupied with something, and Elsa was forced consider that it might well be about his son. But that was something she couldn't—wouldn't—change. No matter how each of them might have been hurt by it in their own ways. She looked away, down at the table, pretending to study the grain patterns. The guildsman finally spoke, inquiring about various tradable goods that the other guilds of Arendelle might use, and what the Southern Isles might expect in return.

Vanja Ostberg-Lang was silent for the entire exchange, alert and attentive, but offering nothing as she noted down everything that was said. She glanced now and then at the queen, and Elsa found herself surprised by the emotion she saw in those green eyes. Flashes of anger, annoyance, frustration, and strangely… desire. Not knowing what to make of it Elsa turned instead to Torsten, who was steering the conversation towards the execution of justice in the Southern Isles.

"And what of Hans?" the Justicar's assistant asked.

"My youngest brother was punished appropriately for his crimes. He will never get the chance to make such heinous mistakes again."

Here Elsa found herself intrigued by Frederik's choice of words. Punished appropriately, yes, but Arendelle and the Southern Isles had differing ideas on how justice would best be served. Heinous, yes, but mistakes? That implied that perhaps if Hans had succeeded in his plot to gain the throne his brothers might have accepted it. A very dangerous road to travel, and she would have to go through her father's things later to discover if Arendelle had a spy within the Southern Isles that might shed more light on the situation. There was also another curious choice of words, in saying that Hans would never get the chance to make such mistakes again.

That could mean he was locked up in a dungeon somewhere, never to see the light of day—which Elsa was fairly sure she could live with—or, given the Southern Isles' taste for blood, it could mean he had been executed, and given the way Frederik had spoken, Elsa strongly suspected it was the latter case. It was something she would have to tell Anna, to give them both closure, but the question was when; and how?

Her thoughts returning to the present, Elsa heard the tail of end something bishop Gudbrand was asking about religion in the Southern Isles. Frederik seemed to surprise everyone present by giving a highly detailed answer, occasionally sharing quotes from the scriptures in order to espouse a particular value held by the Southerners. Elsa paid it little attention—she could do much the same for Arendellan culture and its people, and from the sounds of it the Southerners hadn't changed much since the time her father had been in power.

Three years ago.

She sighed heavily, arms reaching up to hug herself before she caught what she was doing. Three years was a long time to be without a father, a mentor, and a friend. She thought she'd let it all out. Enough that she could be angry with him for keeping her from Anna. True, most of that was her own doing, but it had been her _father's_ idea. And she had always listened to her father. Elsa blinked, looking up to find everyone looking at her. She looked around the room trying to figure out if she accidentally iced something over, and then everyone turned to look at Frederik.

"My apologies, Prince Frederik, I was lost in thought."

"No, no apologies. I know it is not easy for a young monarch to adjust so quickly to the throne. I merely enquired as to whether you yourself had further questions for me, your majesty."

"Only one, to confirm something you said earlier."

"Yes?"

"Hans is dead?" And Elsa watched as Frederik winced not at the mention of death, but of his brother's name. Strange. The crown prince of the Southern Isles nodded, then bowed to the council.

"I shall see myself out."

Elsa turned to Hank. "Lieutenant Erikson, escort the prince from the castle. I'm certain he will wish to present their gift to princess Anna. From there you may consider yourself free for the afternoon—should I have need of you I will send for you, as usual."

Hank bowed, following prince Frederik through the door, closing it behind them with a solid thunk. Elsa turned to the council. "Your thoughts, gentlemen, and lady."

"Smart, most certainly. Perhaps cunning." Gerhardt's assessment was brusque. "Dangerous to his enemies. And potential allies. We may need to send an emissary to King Christian."

"His knowledge of the guilds and their work is lacking," Søren spoke, disapproving. "Sure, he knows what they use, but he has little idea what they use it _for_. To deal with their guilds we would need to speak with the head of each guild in the Southern Isles. I suspected as much from the start however."

"Devout," Gudbrand's assessment was as blunt as Gerhardt's. "Pious, but not overly zealous. They know of temperance at least, in contrast to Weselton's fanaticism."

"He's sharp," Vanja Ostberg-Lang's voice cut across the conversation. "Dangerous. He holds himself above everyone else; and he held a duellist's pose throughout much of that speech. I do not think he told many important lies, but I think he wasn't telling us the whole truth about many things. His brother, for example, or what they plan to do about Weselton after this attack. I don't trust him."

"They seem to abide by the law," Torsten spoke quietly. "But only insofar as much as it suits them to do so. And I don't think they executed Hans because of his crimes—I think they did it to make a statement. And I believe you all heard when Frederik called Hans's acts mistakes? Yes? Good. We're in agreement then that the implication is the success of Hans's plot would have legitimised it in their eyes? Very, very dangerous. I suspect we would be sleeping with one eye open for a while after signing any deals with them."

"They have a long way to go before they can prove peaceable intent," and Elsa was surprised to hear trade minister Johanssen saying that. "Their trade would of course be most valuable—but so is the security of our kingdom, and while they say it was a mistake, they have already made one attempt to undermine that security and usurp our power. I would be on my guard for a long time."

"Thank you all for your assessment," Elsa clasped her hands as she spoke. "I do not think we have enough information to make an informed decision, and as such, until the time we do, I recommend we declare ourselves officially neutral with regards to the Southern Isles and her sovereign territories. Are we agreed?"

No one spoke against the motion, and so it passed. With everything now covered, that would normally be the end of the meeting, but she had something to ask of the marshal. She held up a hand for the council to wait.

"For his actions in saving my life on the harbour, I would like to promote lieutenant Erikson to Captain. This is within my power as queen, is it not, marshal Gerhardt?"

"It is, and it's about time." Elsa blinked. That was not at all what she'd been expecting from the marshal.

"Excuse me?"

"Lieutenant Erikson is one of the finest soldiers—marines—in the Third Fusiliers. He is a gentleman, an officer, and your protector. I was surprised when you did not promote him upon assigning him as your bodyguard. I was more surprised to learn that from the lieutenant himself, and I also know he would not ask for such recognition even though he so richly deserves it. He deserves to be known as a hero—and as a good man—and this is a good first step."

"He seems so reticent about these things."

"It is because he is so very proper, Queen Elsa. Surely you've noticed that in his speech and his actions?" And Elsa's smile betrayed her at that. "I thought as much. He deserves more, and before you chose him as your protector he was a promising candidate to command the Third. He knew—knows—almost all of them. He's an officer, but he gets his hands dirty with the men. They respect him, and they would follow him, as much for his spirit as his prowess in combat. He might not seem a born leader to you, your majesty, but in his element, none would doubt his commands.

"I hope he can find as much purpose with you."

"I—I had no idea."

"You couldn't. You haven't known him these last ten years, from a fresh-faced infantryman to a seasoned lieutenant."

"Then a recommendation for the Star of Arendelle would not go astray, would it?" Elsa smiled at the marshal. "For his valour and self-sacrifice."

"If marines were eligible for the Star, certainly." Gerhardt smiled back, but not unkindly. "I think you would recommend him for the Navy Cross, or the Silver Ensign. I will consider it, along with the other commanders, and as a group we will decide of which medal captain Erikson is most worthy."

"Thank you, marshal Gerhardt."


	73. Pillars of Faith

Anna wandered the castle gardens alone, lost in thoughts of a better time. At seven—or was it eight?—her mother had left her with the castle's groundskeeper for an hour while errands had had to be run. The groundskeeper, a kindly old man, had taken to pointing out all the different kinds of flowers to the young princess. He had even told her that Elsa had a favourite. White crocuses. Back then it had surprised her that someone might know more about her sister than she did, but it was more important that she knew something else with which to try and get her sister to talk.

Anna laughed, remembering how her mother had explained the meanings behind certain flowers, and what giving them as gifts actually meant. The crocus was supposed to indicate happiness, and given how sad Elsa always looked back then, Anna decided she needed to give her lots of those flowers. Anna laughed again, remembering being dragged before her parents, shame-faced, not really sure what she'd done wrong because she'd only been trying to make her sister be happy. She hadn't known that sisters giving each other flowers was strange, and _that_ had taken a lot of explanation before it had sunk in. But at eight she hadn't cared what the world thought of her, only what Elsa might think of her. But the flowers had only been for maybe a month, before she figured out maybe seeing the flowers constantly wilt after being cut might actually be making Elsa sadder instead of happier.

So she'd had to find other ways to try and get through to Elsa; ways that ranged from swinging above windows to charging doors with a lance. Not that any of them had worked, but she'd never given up. And now she knew Elsa would never give up either—not as long as she was trying to help her. Then she saw Elsa rolling through the gardens towards her, a few flyaways of platinum teased by the afternoon winds.

"I thought I'd find you here."

"Really, not off on some crazy adventure?"

"I'm sure if you were going to do that you'd tell me. Well, at least I hope you'd tell me. You would," and Elsa smiled mischievously. "You couldn't help yourself."

"Hey!" The problem was Elsa wasn't entirely wrong. "Maybe I should tell you about my next adventure… one with Kristoff in it."

Elsa held out her hands. "Please don't."

Anna smiled and stuck out her tongue, but didn't elaborate. Not that she had any real plans at this point but soon enough she would have to dedicate more time to Kristoff; and to help him get another sled before winter; and to find out more about Sven; and maybe to go back to the trolls even if they would try to marry them again. For a third time. Eventually it would be true, but that was months, perhaps even years away. She wanted to really _know_ Kristoff first.

"Would you like to get something to eat?" Elsa sounded weary to Anna's ears, as if she'd stayed awake through the meeting only through sheer force of will.

Then Anna's stomach rumbled. Loudly. Elsa raised a hand to cover her mirth, beckoning for Anna to follow her with the other. Anna followed her sister to the kitchens, and after they'd taken some food Elsa led them both to her office, but once inside seemed to reconsider it. Instead she led them to the waiting room opposite, something less formal. Anna wondered what was going on as she sat in a plush, comfortable chair, eating strawberries and chocolate from a small plate.

Elsa fidgeted in her chair, and Anna leaned forwards as she saw her sister's brow knit with worry. Whatever they needed to discuss it was weighing heavily on Elsa's mind. So much so that as she wrung her hands a light snowfall was beginning. Anna took a deep breath, about to reach for Elsa when to her surprise and disappointment Elsa waved her away.

"Elsa, please, just tell me what's wrong," she wanted to just take that step, hug Elsa, and stop the snow. Not that the snow itself was bothering her, but the source of it. Elsa was worried, scared, clearly afraid of something.

"I–I need to… tell you something." Elsa's anxiety was enough to start frosting the walls, and Anna balled her fist until her knuckles were white when her sister motioned for her to remain seated once more. She had to know how much this was hurting both of them, and yet she still refused to let herself be comforted?

"Just tell me then." Anna stood, defiant, about to take that step when a blast of arctic air knocked her back into the chair. Elsa winced at her look of betrayal, avoiding her gaze.

"It will probably come as something of a shock." The ice at least was starting to recede, and Anna gave her sister a pointed look. Finally meeting her eyes Elsa managed a weak little smile. The snow was gone too. And she'd done that just by being close—but that wasn't what Elsa wanted to talk about, so Anna pressed her line of questioning.

"Really, after everything we've been through? After everything we've told each other? How you love me? How you think you're a monster sometimes? How we nearly lost each other all those years ago? What could be more shocking than any of those?"

Elsa's voice was lead. "Hans is dead."

Anna let out a quiet breath, not quite sure what she was feeling right now. There was no way Elsa would lie about anything that serious; or say anything unless she was completely sure of the facts. So Hans was dead. It didn't matter how Elsa knew. It didn't matter how Elsa had told her—though Anna could finally appreciate the fact that Elsa had forced her to keep her seat. It was so like Elsa—always concerned for everyone else. But she said Hans was dead. Anna blinked, trying to work it out. The knowledge didn't bring her any satisfaction. No joy at his demise. Not even a little. No relief that he couldn't hurt them anymore. She actually felt… sad, and Anna shook her head at that. Maybe she was worried about his brothers. What they must have felt. That had to be it.

"Anna?" A voice, soft and tentative.

"I… I'm not sure… I mean… I don't… it's weird."

"Are you okay?" An edge of worry shaded Elsa's voice. "Would you like a moment alone?"

"Stay," Anna held out her hand. "Please."

It was strange… the news had been something of a shock, but now she felt lighter, freer, somehow set adrift. It wasn't an entirely pleasant sensation and she shook her head hard, trying to clear up the sudden fuzziness. She'd had plans and plots and schemes for getting even. None of them mattered now. Even hating him, hating what he had done, seemed pointless. Crazy. Why waste the energy on hate—it would be worth so much more as love for Elsa. But that still didn't make her feel any better. Only then did she notice her breathing had become fast and shallow. She was out of breath for no reason, and just as suddenly the world went black.

Somehow Elsa was staring down at her, worry mixed with fascination on her face. She looked up at Elsa, frowning in consternation. "Umm… Did I faint or something?"

"I think you did." And Anna closed her eyes to avoid seeing her sister trying so valiantly to disguise just one little laugh—hopefully of relief. She opened her eyes and the moment was gone.

"But why?" Anna struggled to sit up. "I mean, it was only kinda shocking and sudden I guess but I hadn't really thought about it since you sent him away and then I had all these plans to sort of hurt him and trip him up and just make his life hell, but… but… I'm not sure I wanted him dead. I don't think I really wanted to see him hurt—I mean, not worse than you and me, but… I don't get it."

Elsa smiled, helping her up as best she could. "I'm still not sure how to feel either. I feel responsible for it somehow—because it was my decision to return him to his brothers—but I also feel… absolved? maybe. I feel like it was always out of my hands, and I'm relieved, but it still feels strange."

"If we could work this out together; would that help?"

"It would. I'd like that." And Anna saw the smile meant only for her, content and bashful, and all the more beautiful for its rarity.

* * *

Justicar Hanne Kristoffersen looked over the men in front of him. Six traitors to the realm, one who had served on the council with him, and one who was the son of a good man. They were jointly responsible for the attempt on Queen Elsa's life, and for that, they would all suffer the consequences. Kristoffersen smiled a grim little smile, noting something down in a journal bound in red leather, then he lifted the gavel and struck it against the lectern.

"Not having witnessed your actions myself, but taking into account the statements of those present when you acted, I must pronounce you all guilty of high treason. All other charges pale in comparison to your attempt on the queen's life. You are all sentenced to death, and should know that the course of justice in Arendelle is as swift and sure under Queen Elsa as it was under King Agdar.

"Guards, escort them to the castle dungeon."

The guards nodded, leading the shackled men from the hall of justice. Kristoffersen removed his wig and rubbed his eyes. It had been a tiring day, with much reading and the occasional witness called to the stand, but little talking aside from the protests of the guilty. But that still wore on him. As did the fact he had had to sentence Søren's son to death. The law was the law, and if it was not followed chaos would result. He would not force the guilty to wait over long—that was why he had sent Ansa and Ari out earlier in the day. It would be the town square that they used for this display—and it had to be public, to discourage anyone else from attempting such crimes. It would be at noon, so as to allow for the largest possible crowd. It would also require the presence of the queen—and that was something he was not sure he could count on.

Two days… two days would give her enough time to prepare, surely. Kristoffersen nodded to himself. That would make it noon on Wednesday. Odin's day. It seemed somehow of greater import then, given Odin's association with death, battle, royalty, and the gallows. Well, to Søren it would mean that much. Kristoffersen wondered what bishop Gudbrand would make of the timing. Or the queen. Clarence had told him of the attempts to draw her back to the true faith—though Kristoffersen doubted the 'true' part. It was time to pay him a visit.—there was a lot he needed to get off his chest after today.

* * *

Bishop Gudbrand spoke as soon as Kristoffersen was through the door to the chapel's annex. "Sit; I've already made the tea."

"Thank you." Kristoffersen sat opposite the bishop and lifted the cup to his lips. Strong. Very strong. He frowned. "You made it black?"

"We mysteriously ran out of milk immediately after mine was poured," and the bishop smiled over the rim of his own cup. "Perhaps it's a reminder."

Kristoffersen sat in silence, sipping his tea. There were only a handful of times that Clarence had done that to him. All with good reason. Six men he had had to pass judgement on—judgement under the law, not the Divine. This time was no different then. Kristoffersen watched as his friend removed a black leather journal from his desk and opened it to a blank page. Kristoffersen reached into his jacket and withdrew his own journal, bound in red leather.

"Sometimes not doing the right thing is hard," Kristoffersen glanced down at his notes while bishop Gudbrand lifted a pen to write in his own. "Like you always say Clarence, doing what is right, and doing what is lawful are not always the same thing. I have today sentenced six men to death; the youngest among them was only fifteen, and is the son of guildsman Søren Skjeggestad. It seems most unfair to Søren that this should happen—by all accounts he was a good father, and his son—Konrad—was trying only to protect him. In all the wrong ways, but he thought he would be helping.

"Punishing the father for the sins of the son seems backward, but that is the unfortunate truth we are faced with today. Søren is a good man, and a valuable asset tot he council, and I would hate to see him alienated because of this. It may happen, it may not—I think it must depend on what the town thinks as to whether Søren was a poor father; or Konrad was a poor son. I would not make that call myself.

"The case against Stefan Larsson is worse—to have had such a spy; a traitor to the realm in our midst… unthinkable. The airs he affected were such we never thought to investigate deeper. We should have. I may in fact insist on this next time I sit in council. Worse than this, he helped to orchestrate the assassination attempt from the beginning. Without the intervention of the queen's protector it might well have succeeded. Then we are forced to examine his attempt on miss Ostberg-Lang's life—in which she was saved serious injury by the armour she wore.

"We know also that he tried to kill—with poison—minister Johanssen as well. I still wonder about those odd thefts, if they might have been related to all this. And all of it on the orders of the Duke of Weselton, a man who fears the unknown so that he would sooner see it destroyed than studied. Not the actions of an enlightened individual. Then again, neither was sending his bodyguards to kill the queen on the North Mountain. All this could have been avoided if he weren't such a hidebound and reactionary—"

"And petty." Gudbrand hadn't needed to point that out—everyone on the council knew of the Duke's pettiness. Then again, it was always worth noting.

"—and petty little man. So much bloodshed. So much darkness. Sometimes I can see why people would turn to the Divine—but then, when petty men like that use it to justify their actions… how do you deal with it, Clarence?"

"I try to do the right thing; as I always have."

"I know the right thing is for these men would have been to give them a second chance—especially Konrad Sørensen. Given time we might even have reformed Larsson, or turned him against Weselton. The other four I do not know as well, but should they have shown any remorse—if any of them were to show remorse—the right thing would be to try and reform them. Unfortunately, in my role as Justicar, I must do what is lawful, what is right is a secondary concern. Often the two are aligned, but not in every case. Especially not this one—but I will not shy from such decisions. I would not entrust them to another soul." Kristoffersen smiled at the bishop. "Even yours."

Gudbrand finished writing a few moments later, Kristoffersen trying to gauge his expression. Somewhere between concerned and accusing. Kristoffersen watched his oldest friend's expression soften as he re-read the final few sentences. "I think you are wise not to trust me with this decision." Kristoffersen smiled and sipped his tea. "You know I would try to reform them."

"I know you, Clarence. You always want to see the light in everyone—even in a heart black as pitch. You want to see all that is good in this world."

"There is some left, Hanne, and it is worth fighting for." Bishop Gudbrand tapped his cup against the saucer for dramatic effect. "Always."

"Idealist."

"Well, one of us has to be." Gudbrand closed the journal and returned it to the inside of his desk. Kristoffersen slid his own journal back into his jacket pocket. Finishing his tea Kristoffersen then rose to leave, pausing as Gudbrand spoke once more. "Perhaps you need a higher perspective. Perhaps you need more than one god."

If he'd been drinking, Kristoffersen was sure he'd have spat it out at that. He cried out in mock outrage, but there was a smile behind his eyes. "Blasphemy; and from our good bishop, no less."

"A little levity, after your unburdening." Gudbrand wore a mischievous smile. "I take my job seriously."

"Still trying to save my heathen soul."

"I swear by the Divine that there is some good in there…"

There was a very long pause as Kristoffersen opened the door and stepped into the hall.

"…well, somewhere."

Kristoffersen closed the door, leaning back against the wall for just a moment. He smiled, somewhat wistfully—just how badly had he needed Gudbrand's compassion of late?

* * *

Standing, one foot working the pedal, Søren pressed the edge of the steel to the grinding stone. Sparks flew in bright orange streaks as he began to form the blade of Vanja's knife. It had, surprisingly, been a piece of scrap, just about the right size, and so he'd cut out the basic shape with a hacksaw. It was good work for the afternoon—and he'd already handed the antique watch to a horologist to fix. One less thing to worry about. He smiled, forcing the edge of the tang against the stone, grinding the rough cut back to the line he'd marked. Every now and then he would dip the piece in a small container of water to cool it before resuming work.

Shadows had started to lengthen by the time he had smoothed out the shape of the blade, his layout marks now barely visible. Wiping sweat from his brow he placed his foot against the pedal once more and got the stone spinning. This time he pressed the flat of the piece against the stone, just the upper inch or so, holding it upside down, starting to to grind out the cutting edge of the blade. The edge profile would be slightly concave, but he knew he could fix that later with a cross grind down the length of the blade. Then it could be sharpened with a whetstone, and he could start the bluing.

That would take a long time, and many coats of blue. He could temper the outer layer of metal—case hardening it to make it tougher, with the bonus of colouring it, but the colour was unlikely to be even. The case hardening though was a good idea, and he noted it down. Over that he could start to blue the blade. The blade was going to be tough, durable, and darkly beautiful—just like its intended owner. The etching on the blade would be filled with silver for contrast against the colour of the metal.

He nodded, cooling his workpiece again. He had just had an idea for Elsa's gift, but for now Vanja's took precedence. She was more important to him—after all, Elsa was only the queen. A little shiver ran through him as he thought that, Vanja's speech about both hating and loving the queen coming unbidden to his mind. A secret, a show of trust; a trust he would not breach. Letting his foot off the pedal, Søren lifted the blade to inspect it in the light coming through the windows.

Closing one eye he looked down the length of the blade, no high points apparent, and the bevel even on both sides. He blinked, looking again. Left side, just a slight dip on the flat. Right side, next to the tang—a fleck of steel not quite taken off by the grinding stone. A few more minutes with the grinding stone, checking the blade much more critically between grinds. Much better, and now ready for the first step in its finishing process. He placed the blade on his bench, walking into his office at the back to take a drink.

He looked at various designs he had hung on the wall as he walked. The piece for Elsa he had not touched. Had not even really begun; he didn't know where to start. Not even on a drawing. No concepts springing to him. Something to make her life easier, yes, but what? He shrugged. In time it would come to him. Then, maybe he was being too practical—Elsa's magic made many things easier for her—simple things so far, at least. He frowned. What if she didn't _want_ her life to be easier? She always seemed determined to do things the hard way, perhaps as penance for her actions. Unnecessary, but he could see how she might think that. Perhaps then what he needed to make was not practical, but symbolic? Something to show her her true worth?

"Mister Skjeggestad?" an unfamiliar voice called from his workshop. Unfamiliar and female. "Are you in?"

"Coming!" he shouted, setting down his mug and walking back into the workshop.

She was short, modestly built, with a tightly wrapped bun of raven hair. Piercing blue eyes too. He frowned—she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't recall where he might have met her.

"Ansa, mister Skjeggestad. I work for the Justicar. He sent me."

"Sent you for what?"

"To tell you that the execution will be on Wednesday."

"Oh," Søren shrugged, taking Vanja's blade from the bench, inspecting it in the late afternoon sunlight. He moved to set up his drilling machine; three holes in the tang so he could more easily attach the bone handles. Ansa hadn't moved.

"Don't you have anything say about this?"

"What's left to say." Søren wasn't even remotely interested in the conversation. She'd already told him the only thing worth knowing. The young man in that cell who was no longer his son would be dead in two days. There was one thing worth pointing out though. "At least Elsa had the courtesy to tell me herself."

"Well, the Justicar thought she was more important than you. Was he wrong?" Søren took no notice of the defensive edge in her voice.

"It doesn't matter." Working the crank he pulled the first fine bit down through the piece, a coil of swarf slowly wrapping around the bit.

"It should matter, Søren. It's your son."

He didn't bother looking up to answer her. "My son died three weeks ago. That boy is not my son; I don't know who he is, I don't want to know, now go."

"You'll—"

"I'll what, Ansa?" Søren let the drill rise and turned to face the Justicar's assistant. "I'll regret this?"

"…yes." She turned away, defeated. Søren didn't blame her. All he wanted to do was work on this project in peace. While he was working he didn't have to think about anything else. Like what had led to all this. Or how this had happened before, and that it had taken a word from king Agdar to bring him back. He heard the workshop door close and got back to work. It was all he could do now.

* * *

A knock at the door forced Elsa to look up from the work piled on her desk. Anna was sprawled out on a couch behind her, snoring softly, having failed to make much headway with the correspondence she had been assigned. Hank had been on the couch when Anna finally nodded off, now being used as a cushion, a situation Elsa found highly entertaining. Hank seemed rather less amused.

"Enter," Elsa's voice carried across the room and she heard her sister stirring behind her. Justicar Kristoffersen strode in wearing a severe look, taking the seat opposite her when she waved him to it. "Justicar Kristoffersen; I was not expecting you."

"Grave business, I am afraid, your majesty. I have handed down sentences for those six men that sought to kill you."

Elsa looked at her hands, clasped gently on the edge of her desk. They didn't shake. They didn't turn white. Didn't freeze or glow. She let out a quiet breath, knowing she was responsible for the death of six men. Her kingdom, her laws, her Justicar. It still felt personal—as if someone had asked her to be the executioner, to pull that lever. She looked up, noting that Kristoffersen didn't smile. He carried a certain darkness too, but his seemed lighter—then again, he had been doing this for a very long time. She'd been queen for a month and in that time had killed at least thirty men. Most by proxy, but one… one very deliberately by her own hand. She shivered, hating what she had been forced to do as queen of Arendelle.

It had been necessary. Much as she hated it, sometimes violence was the only answer. It was the only language some people could understand. This too was necessary, less violent but more permanent. Final. She gasped as her mind once again showed her Anna hanging from the gallows. She turned, one hand gripping hard around the crucifix she wore. Anna was safe, using Hank's thigh as a pillow. Hank was reading a book, trying to ignore the fact he was being used as a pillow. A shaky breath and she turned to face the justicar again.

"When is the sentence to be carried out?" Better to know now than find out at some other rather less convenient time.

"Wednesday, at noon, your majesty."

Two days… for two days, well, a day and a half, she would feel guilty and worry about everything. Then, then she would be forced to watch six men die. She would force herself to watch, no matter the horrors she witnessed. This was her decision, and she would bear the consequences. Her decision to allow lawfulness to supersede goodness. Choosing not to do the right thing, but for the right reasons—was that even more monstrous? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She still didn't know how she could decide that and still call herself good, in any way. She had no idea of how to reconcile the enormity of this act with the way Anna saw her; or the way Hank saw her; or maybe even the way Kristoff saw her.

Or the rest of the council, for that matter. Did they see her as a just queen? A tyrant? A puppet? What did they _really_ think of her? What did Søren think of her—he had called her a monster that day. He had been angry, but she had felt the truth and vitriol behind his words. What about Kristoffersen—and why was he here when he could have so easily sent his assistant—Torsten? Then she understood, and tried to smile for him, because he had been trying to do the right thing.

"Thank you for coming here to tell me in person," she dismissed him with a gentle wave. "I appreciate the gesture."

"You deserve no less, your majesty," Kristoffersen bowed slightly before leaving. "I will see you again, before it is time."

Elsa sighed, turning away from her work. No one had said being queen would be easy, and she was learning the reality of that more with every passing day. Every week of her short reign. Not much more than a month since her coronation and already she'd had to deal with a kidnapping; had a caused a minor crisis of succession; had been forced to execute six men; and had come dangerously close to having a war incited in her sovereign waters. There was also good think about—more personal, but no less important because there had been so little good in her life before.

She had reconnected with Anna. In a month she'd spent more time with her sister than she had in the past thirteen years. Finding the council, to help her rule, and discovering a friend, an ally, and a steadfast supporter—and all of them different people. She had regained some small portion of her faith, kindled by an idea given her by the bishop. She had started—recently—to explore, really explore, the capabilities of her magic. That was Anna too. And then, something she had thought she would never see, she had found not one, but two people she loved—was in love with. And both of them were in the room right now.

"Just breathe," Elsa turned to look at Hank who simply smiled at her, betraying nothing.

"It's not going to be a good day for me."

"I'll be there, at your side, no matter what."

"Because you have to be."

"No, Elsa, because I want to be—at your side, I mean, not there," he stroked Anna's hair as she stirred, rolling over slightly. "I think I have some idea of what this might do to you. You asked me to protect you, and I will."

"You'll be my shield against the world." Elsa smiled at her _houscarl_.

"Sometimes you need to let the world in."

"I know, Hank, I know," and Elsa shook her head. "But it's hard… sometimes it's easier not to feel anything."

"I–I want to help with that."

Slowly, carefully, Elsa clasped her hands together and let free just a little of her magic, her thoughts only for Hank, and everything she meant to him. She could feel the shape, the fractal branching, and slowly she opened her hands, cupping her creation in them. The light from the window cast a rainbow through it, hidden from view from everyone but her. She turned her chair with one hand, gently holding the snowflake in the air with the other. Then she offered it to Hank.

"You want to help?" she smiled as he took the snowflake, the edges frosting white. "You already are."


	74. Not Alone

Elsa sat in the library, reading. Hank was with her, also reading, and next to him Anna was pretending to read but really trying quite hard not to fall asleep. Elsa peeked over the top of her book to see her sister's eyes drifting closed only to blink wide awake a second later. If Hank noticed it, he was keeping it to himself, but the edge of a smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. Smiling warmly, Elsa hid what she'd really been reading between the pages of the heavy tome she had. Her father did have a spy in King Christian's court, a retainer to one of the lesser nobles of the Southern Isles. The information he gave was not always timely or useful, but it was, by and large, very accurate.

It even included a dossier on each of the princes, and she dearly wished she'd thought of such subterfuge before having the Southern Isles invited to the coronation. She also knew she was viewing those dossiers with the benefit of hindsight—if she hadn't known Hans or his plans, it would have read very differently. The spy also seemed to regard Nikolaus as the only good man in the entire family, though Elsa wasn't sure if that was exaggerating for effect, or the honest truth about the Westergard line. Given her meetings with three of the Westergard brothers she was leaning closer to that statement being the simple truth—and maybe, just maybe, Nikolaus was to the Westergards in some way what Gerhardt was to her.

Looking back over the room Elsa saw her sister twitch, book nearly slipping from her hand before her fingers squeezed tight to hold it in place. Elsa placed her own tome on her lap and pushed herself closer.

"You're bored," Elsa smiled at her sister, one hand gently lowering the book Anna was pretending so valiantly to be interested in. "You didn't have to stay."

"I wanted to," Anna smiled at her, sitting up straighter. "And anyway, I'm getting ideas and now I've got a plan and it's about our thing that you promised me so we can talk about it later if you want and maybe could we just walk around for a while?"

"If you don't mind pushing for a bit," Elsa gave her sister a tired grin. "It's been a long day." She turned to Hank. "Hank, this between myself and my sister, you may take your leave."

"Of course, Queen Elsa," Hank stood, smiled, and bowed slightly, then left the library, leaving the sisters alone.

"Your plans," Elsa began softly. "They're about me walking again, aren't they?"

"They are," Anna nodded brightly. "I just remembered something Kai showed me in the books about anatomy. I looked it up again earlier while you were hiding all those pages inside that really big book so Hank couldn't see you reading them and it's all about reflexes and you remember that I made your foot move, right, when I tickled you?"

Elsa nodded, smiling softly as Anna's cadence accelerated with her excitement—something she'd not seen in too long. It was a heartening moment, and just for that moment Elsa let the silence hang heavy in the air, Anna looking adorably confused by the lack of response she was getting.

"I do remember, Anna. I also remember us saying we would talk to the physician about it—together."

"Oooh, right." Anna wore a chagrined smile. "Oops?"

"I was too busy with the council today. Tomorrow afternoon I have to make myself available for the grievances—but I think I'm free tomorrow morning."

"You think, do you?" Anna smiled, padding softly to the door, her stockings nearly silent on the library's thickly carpeted floor. "So, after breakfast—I mean my breakfast, not yours, because you always get up waaay too early for me, so yeah, okay."

Elsa looked away, hiding the tears in her eyes. Anna was back—or at least seemed to have that same verve and chaotic energy—and even if it was just for a passing moment, she didn't want to ruin it by making Anna sad again. Or forcing her to stop and look back; to see everything that had befallen them since the coronation. Then Elsa felt a strong finger lifting her chin, and she was staring into shimmering turquoise, losing her entire train of thought to the way the light from the gaslamps danced in those eyes.

"It's okay, Elsa," and Elsa saw her sister's sad little smile. "It's been a long time—I know. But I organized some things this afternoon while you were in council, and I think it's really starting to help—but I can't tell you about them yet, okay?"

"But you will tell me, one day." It wasn't a question. Anna nodded firmly in reply, then moved to the back of Elsa's chair.

They moved through the first floor of the castle, from the library in the south to the sitting room in the north, all the portraiture staring down at them. Anna lifted her carefully from her chair and placed her on one of the lounges before circling the room, turning down the gaslamps, and closing the door. It felt poised on the knife edge between romance, mystery, and simple tenderness. Clasping her hands together in her lap, Elsa waited. If Anna needed time, she would give it to her. A wispy flurry of snow betrayed the trepidation she felt in the moment as Anna sat next to her, the redhead's one arm crossing her back to her waist and pulling her close. She could feel Anna's head resting on her shoulder, one braid in danger of tangling with her own.

Time passed—time enough for Elsa to get lost in thought. Anna's voice brought her back, but though the words might have stung, the tone was far more curious than judging.

"It feels… different… with you."

"I'm still the same—and I know you're trying to be too," Elsa gave her sister a tight hug around the shoulders.

"No, no, not that," in the dim light Elsa felt more than saw her sister's smile. "I mean you—you feel different to Kristoff."

"I can think of at least two reasons for that," Elsa said lightly, noticing that Anna's head was slipping from her shoulder to somewhere lower on her chest.

"No, that's just me being tired." Anna kissed her sister on the cheek. "I mean… well… I just don't want to hurt you or make you mad or anything, okay?"

"Then just tell me," Elsa's voice was a firm whisper as she sat just a little straighter, wondering what sort of difference her sister was trying to explain. And not just that she felt different—to touch—than Kristoff did. Was it, as she had long suspected, that Anna simply did not—could not—feel the same way she did?

"I love you Elsa, I do, but I'm scared, because I think I'm starting to love Kristoff more—and maybe one day it'll be more than I love you."

"Oh, Anna," Elsa laid her head against her sister's shoulder. "I was always scared of that. No, no—I was scared you'd stop loving me _at all_. I always knew, one day, that you would marry, and maybe live in another kingdom, and I would never see you again. But at least you would be safe."

"Elsa, that's not—" Anna shifted her hand, about to raise it to protest, but Elsa took it hers, holding it as warmly as she could with both of her own.

"I _was_ scared."

"Oh… so you're not scared of that now?"

"I met you again, after thirteen years. I think I fell in love you—hopelessly, I guess—" Elsa smiled in the darkness, wishing for a moment falling love with her own sister could be seen as funny instead of wrong. "–and you told me you would always be there for me. Always."

Silence answered her, and Elsa pulled her sister closer.

"I believed you then—why should I stop believing you now," Elsa held her smile as she continued. "You love me, and that's enough. It's more than I ever thought possible."

"Then you're a dummy," and Elsa rubbed her arm after Anna thumped her. "Because you're worth so much more than that… I–I'm just not… I can't give you that. I love you, as my sister, and my friend."

There was a pause, and Anna took a deep breath, standing suddenly, backing towards the door. Mischief gleamed in her eyes.

"You'll need Hank to show you _that_ kind of love." And with a soft blush Anna departed, leaving Elsa sitting on the lounge.

Frowning darkly, Elsa knew her sister was right. It hurt that Anna didn't want to—simply couldn't—see her the same way she saw Anna. It hurt, and Elsa found she was disappointed by that, by the idea that her sister couldn't love her as she loved her sister. She wanted to know, just… just once might have been enough. But this was Anna, and she knew once would never have been enough. Her sister was like a drug, and Elsa had enough presence of mind to know she was intoxicated merely by her presence at times.

Letting out a heavy sigh Elsa slipped back against the lounge. It wasn't fair to Anna; to expect these things of her, intimate and most unsisterly. Especially not after what had happened in the fort—what Anna had told her, and not told her. Elsa shivered. She wouldn't force anything on Anna; wouldn't even raise her voice. Anna deserved far better, and she knew it. One day, in a distant future, more fantastic than real, if Anna asked, then Elsa was sure she—they—would enjoy that moment, and the way they shared their love. But only if Anna asked for it. Only and specifically if Anna asked for that to happen.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Elsa looked up, the door opening to reveal her sister in the corridor. Her head was cocked to one side and she wore a puzzled expression.

"Elsa… why didn't you try and chase me?"

"Chase you?"

"For teasing you—I was trying to get you moving again, and maybe to forget the horribly boring council meeting you had and that annoying prince who tried starting a war."

Elsa looked away, avoiding her sister's gaze. "What you said made me think Anna. About you, me, and us. I need some time to figure it out."

"Would it help if we figure it out together?"

Looking up, Elsa finally noticed the snowfall, drifting aimlessly about the room. As she spoke the fall became heavier, and a chill wind grew from her heart—something she wished wouldn't happen, because it was trying to drive her sister away. As if her words hadn't already done that.

"I need to work this one out on my own."

Elsa could see the surprise on her sister's face, but it quickly melted into acceptance; understanding.

"I'll still be there for you when you figure it out," Anna smiled, pushing forward through the suddenly abating wind and snow. "If you don't tell me what it is, I can't help you figure it out—but that's okay. I'll still be there for you—" Anna's voice caught as she asked the next question. "—would you like me to leave you alone for a while?"

Elsa couldn't say anything, she could only nod. Anna left quietly, closing the door behind her. Elsa hugged her arms; that Anna loved her so much warring with how the act of leaving so hurt Anna. Her heart was torn between love and fear, and a part of her began to wonder if that was how her sister felt around Kristoff. It couldn't have been easy. Then, there was what Kristoff was to her—and of that she wasn't quite sure. He wasn't close enough to be a friend, not yet, at least. He wasn't a fellow noble, though that would soon change, much to his apparent annoyance. He loved Anna fiercely, and yet did not see Elsa's sovereignty as an obstacle to be worked around, but as a condition to be worked with. And Anna quite clearly loved him back. Possibly more than she loved Elsa.

Things were starting down a darker path, and Elsa knew it. She didn't know how to stop it on her own—and this time a part of her didn't care to. Hank… she knew he would help. He always tried to help, even if he didn't always succeed. He was worthy, and yet didn't seem to know it. But perhaps it wasn't his fault. Elsa sighed, wishing for once she could feel like a normal woman of twenty-one, instead of this horrible ball of confusion, guilt, shame, forbidden desire and old secrets. She would try—at the very least she would try—to make it work with Hank, no matter how hollow a thing it might have been. She wasn't sure if she could love anyone else the way she loved Anna, but she would still try. Yet still she questioned herself, why the world seemed to force everything upon her all at the same time. It wasn't fair—there were no good answers, and every decision felt life-changing—but the only person she could ever talk about this with was Anna herself. She just didn't trust anyone else. Not even, she was quite saddened to realize, her only other friend. Hank.

* * *

The air in the corridor was colder than it should have been simply for the night. Hank frowned, following the chill. Ice, at the very edges of the hall, just along the line between floor and wall. Did Elsa know she was doing this? Did she want to be found, leaving him a trail? Or had something happened, and she had fled the scene? He tried to distance himself from that last one, but it was possible. It seemed unlikely that it was anything serious to anyone but Elsa, but that was the problem. If it was serious to Elsa, it was serious to him, and as always, he would treat it that way.

The ice grew across the floor, building invisible ramps up the walls to the end of the corridor. A thin layer of solid ice so rich and dark in hue as to be almost black covered the double doors at the end of the corridor. The doors to the conservatory. Hank paused, trying to gauge how much force he would need to open those doors against a need not to overly disturb his liege. Safety came first—Elsa's safety—and she had after all asked him to protect her from herself if it became necessary. A moment of panic overcame him and he kicked at the doors, forgetting that they opened inwards. It did crack some of the ice, and taking firm hold of one door handle he pulled hard, feeling the strain in his back and shoulders.

The door was stuck fast. Not a good sign.

Hank drew his sabre, smacking the pommel against the ice, watching as the inky black fell from the doors. Sheathing the blade he tried the door again. It opened with a sound like breaking glass—only very much quieter. Tiny shards of ice littered the floor around the door, and strands of ice had climbed the wooden pillars holding the conservatory roof. It was like stepping into a winter cave, not another part of the castle. Outside the windows he could see the moon, and further, past the North mountain, the flickering lights of a pale aurora. Of Elsa there was no sign.

Elsa lay half-curled against one of the chairs, either having fallen from it, or having sat next to it on the floor. Not seeing any movement in the wan light, Hank rushed to her side. He could hear her breath, and his racing heart slowed. He could feel it faintly against his cheek as he leaned protectively over her. He could even see the tear tracks down her cheeks. Nothing overly concerning had happened, she was simply asleep, having a bad dream. He knew well enough that while asleep she lacked the control she had while awake.

The conservatory was no place to sleep, and Hank placed a hand on Elsa's shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. She woke slowly, blinking at him first in disbelief, then wonderment. He smiled warmly, searching the conservatory for her chair. Nothing. He thought for a second about asking her to make another chair, but then considered she might not be in a fit state to perform that magic, no matter how easy. And ten years serving in the Royal Marines hadn't been wasted either—he didn't need her to have that chair in order to move, and she had given him permission, if needed, to touch her in order to move around.

He knelt, placing one arm around Elsa's back, and the other beneath her thighs, holding her tight. Her arms crossed behind his neck, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, mumbling something he couldn't quite make out. It didn't seem like much of a protest though, so he started back towards the door, surprised to see the ice there slowly dissolving into blue-white snowflakes and falling to the floor.

Two full flights of stairs later, carrying a sleepy queen in his arms, Hank was less sure of his stamina and strength. Helping move an injured soldier was easy by comparison, especially if they could still use at least one leg. Elsa couldn't do that, and though she was slight, she did not weigh nothing. Kneeling carefully, trying not to disturb her, Hank placed Elsa sitting against the wall, then sat himself, one arm behind her shoulders to keep her steady.

"You didn't have to," Elsa mumbled sleepily, brushing hair from her face.

"I found you asleep on your desk the other morning," Hank felt his cheeks starting to colour as he spoke. "You seemed so restful then; and now, as I carried you."

"It was nice," Hank felt an arm reaching around his back, and then Elsa leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," he smiled at her. "Though I will admit the view from the conservatory tonight was quite captivating."

He felt Elsa's head shift slightly. She was looking at the floor, away from him. Her free hand worried at the cross she wore through the fabric of her dress. She said nothing, but he got the feeling it wasn't entirely by choice, as if she were waiting for something. The silence stretched on, and Hank tried to think of something to fill it with. There was nothing of worth—or at least, not that he could think of right now. It was getting late though.

"Your Maj–" Hank shook his head. Elsa wanted him to be less formal around her, especially when they were alone. She didn't want servant. Didn't need one either. What she needed right now was a friend—and that was something he was perfectly capable of being. Coughing softly, he started again. "Elsa. Would you like me to take you to bed."

Hank blinked. Had he just _said_ that? Elsa's wide-eyed stare and blushing smile told him he most assuredly had. It was bad. Very, very bad. A suggestion like that was beyond the pale, grounds for dismissal. And yet Elsa had not admonished him, she simply continued smiling, leaning just a little closer. Her body was strangely warm, and he could feel her breath against his cheek. Time seemed somehow to slow, and he felt soft lips pressing gently against his cheek. It only lasted for a second, maybe less, but time was acting very strangely right now. He blinked. It had been shy, and brief, but, he was sure, very deliberate. He turned to look at Elsa more fully. Her smile widened.

The woman in front of him was not the queen. Not in this moment. No, she was a simply a young woman sharing what might have been her first kiss. Hank smiled, holding Elsa just a little closer. As queen she was powerful beyond reckoning, but as a person—a friend—sometimes she was vulnerable. It was something not many were allowed to see, and he appreciated the importance of that. It was in moments like this, he was sure, that Elsa realized she was neither cursed nor blessed, but simply human, just like everyone else.

"Elsa?" he asked at length, smiling when she looked up at him. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"Well, it would be warmer." She looked away, blushing slightly. "Could you–Could you carry me there?"

"I can." Hank rose, pushing himself away from the wall. He knelt next to Elsa, placing an arm around her shoulders, and one beneath her legs, gathering the loose folds of her dress. As he rose her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, making sure she couldn't fall. Knowing that she was happy—and that she wanted this—made the remaining distance seem so much smaller than before. His arms were still tired after laying Elsa on her bed, and he flexed his wrists and rolled his shoulders as he walked the length of the bed, pulling the covers back for her.

Helping her move her unfeeling legs under the covers was still unnerving, but he tried not to let it show. From Elsa's quietly guarded expression he couldn't really tell how successful he'd been at that. He pulled the covers back over her, fixing the sheets, having to try three times to get it just right. Something was said about a soldier's supposed ability to make a bed of anything.

"When I do make a bed," Hank gave her a sly smile. "It normally does not have anyone else in it."

"Perhaps you need more practice," Elsa smiled back, teasing out her braid. "I shall leave these sheets in a horrible tangle indeed by tomorrow morning."

His voice turned serious as he dimmed the gaslamp by her bed. "Elsa?"

"Yes?" there was slight hint of trepidation in her voice.

"You weren't in the conservatory for the view, were you?" his voice was soft, but his tone firm. He had his suspicions about what had happened, but as Elsa's _houscarl_ ; and more, as her friend, he would not ask outright. He watched as she turned away from him, hair framing her face in shadow.

His only answer was a lengthy silence. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand atop the duvet found Elsa's beneath.

"Even if you say nothing, I will still be there."

"You and Anna both," she was still looking away, but the sadness in her voice was clear. She might even have been crying in the darkness. Hank shifted slightly, wondering at how far the bounds of propriety would extended to comforting his liege. His hand eventually found her shoulder and gave it a tight, sympathetic squeeze. Elsa turned to face him, and she wore a somewhat startled look. She calmed considerably when he pressed lightly against her shoulder through the bedcovers.

"Maybe you just cannot tell me what it is on your mind—you cannot find the words for it. I will not pretend to know that. I know enough to know that it worries you; also that it makes you sad. I have striven, and always shall, to help you find happiness and calm. I know that, somehow, being close to Anna helps, even if at times it scares you. I have seen, and I hope I am right, that Bishop Gudbrand's support also helps."

Moving slowly, Hank carefully tucked his liege in to bed. He was tempted—that she had kissed him so softly—to return the affection the same way. He caught himself leaning half over her supine form, barely hearing how shallow her breathing had become. She was waiting, but he simply couldn't go that far. Not yet. She needed quiet reassurance, not misguided affection. Instead, kneeling beside the bed, he lowered his head to whisper softly to her.

"You are not alone."


	75. Lessons

Anna woke with a start, searching frantically around her room for something clearly not there. She sighed, closing her eyes and throwing her head back against the pillows. Why did she have to be scared of so many things now? Why did her courage seem to fail at the strangest moments. Explaining what she'd been up to while Elsa was in council, for example. She hadn't lied, not exactly, but what she'd been setting up wasn't entirely for her and oh—that was why she was awake this early. She had to catch Elsa before breakfast. Which also meant that there was something—or rather, some _one_ —else in the room. Cracking her eyes open, wiping away the sleep on them, Anna saw that person fussing with the curtains.

"Ungh…" Well, she had _meant_ to say hello. And instead of trying again with 'morning' her body decided it would be an excellent time to yawn. Rubbing her eyes again, Anna struggled to sit up, finding it hard to muster even that amount of energy so early in the morning. It was for Elsa, and that thought gave her the drive she needed. One hand went to her hair. It didn't seem to matter how well she'd slept, it always did that. Sighing, she made another attempt verbal communication, catching Gerda's attention if nothing else.

"We haven't quite got the hang of mornings yet, have we, dear heart."

"'s early," Anna yawned again. "But Elsa."

"It seems you two would do most anything for one another," Gerda helped her stagger to the vanity so she could brush her hair. "I'm proud of you for that."

"Proud?" Anna echoed, confused.

"Yes, your highness, proud. Proud of how even thirteen years apart couldn't break the bond you shared. Proud that even without knowing her, you would have given your life to save your sister. Proud of how you have helped her connect with other people. And proud, of course, that you will be sharing my cooking lessons with her. I knew you were different when you asked about cooking, all those years ago."

"And it was a good differ—ow."

"Apologies, your highness." Anna watched in the mirror as Gerda attempted to disentangle the brush from her coppery hair. The castle's head maid and sometime handmaiden frowned, letting the brush simply hang for a moment. Then, with equal parts strength and tenderness, she pulled the brush through the most stubborn knot. Anna winced, feeling her eyes sting.

"It's bad this morning, Gerda," Anna spoke as Gerda finally managed to disentangle the brush, staring at the tangle of hair caught in it. Both of them just stared. How could it have possibly gotten so snarled?

Gerda broke the silence. "I fear I shall have to summon the groundskeeper to provide us a rake."

Anna giggled, hand covering her mouth. It wasn't often Gerda used such humour, but when she did it always worked. Anna smiled, lowering her hand, Gerda taking the brush through the hair at her neck now. Anna closed her eyes, enjoying the way the brush ran through her hair—except the knots, of course. She blinked, yawning, not quite so tired anymore. Inside she felt… she wasn't sure. Not quite happy. Not bored. Maybe a little tired—or was it just a little laziness? But she felt warm. Satisfied. Content. That was it, she felt content. Maybe not truly happy, or unafraid, but it was enough. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

And that was just from having her hair brushed. She laughed, wincing as one final knot was dealt with.

"Twin braids again today?" Gerda enquired.

"Umm…" Anna tried to imagine various hairstyles formed from her fiery hair. She was going to be busy, and really didn't want her hair getting into anything this morning. An updo of some kind then. Not a bun—that was more Elsa's thing. Oh… Anna smiled. Maybe a woven braid like a wreath—or crown. Then what about the back? Two—no, four—small looped braids, capped with a small bun. Somewhere in the middle. Not a high bun. She explained everything to Gerda without taking a single breath. The head maid spent a moment wearing a bemused smile, then gently requested a repetition at a speed others might be capable of understanding. Cheeks colouring in embarrassment, Anna repeated what she wanted done at a more normal speed.

Gerda nodded, getting to work, separating Anna's hair to be braided in sections. "I do recall that once Queen Elsa brought you breakfast in bed. It was very sweet of her."

"No, very sweet was that orange juice Kjellson's daughters helpfully sabotaged for her," Anna smiled, remembering the look on Elsa's face. "I just… well I never expected anything like that from her, Gerda. She surprised me—in the best way."

"And her cooking—was it truly so bad that you feel you have to teach her everything now?"

"Not really _that_ bad, just—" Anna mumbled, trying to recall just what Elsa's attempt at breakfast in bed had tasted like, besides the too-sweet juice. "—okay, bad."

Gerda laughed softly. "Every person has their flaws—it surprises me that cooking should be one of Elsa's."

"Why?" Anna tried not to move as Gerda pinned the smaller braids in place.

"Well, simply the sheer amount of time you both spent in the kitchens in your younger years. Even later, she would often steal around in the evening and late at night, trying to avoid you."

"If only I'd known," Anna sighed. "If only she hadn't been so scared." Her fist suddenly clenched, knuckles white, Anna continued. "Why did mom and dad have to _hide_ everything. Didn't they think I'd understand? Didn't they think I would forgive her? I would have—I _know_ I would have. They never gave me—gave us—that chance. It wasn't fair to anyone. Especially not Elsa—I mean, couldn't they _see_ how much they were hurting her? Couldn't _anyone?_ "

Gerda waited for her to finish her tirade before speaking. "I can only presume that they thought they were doing what was best. They were king and queen, and adults—their perspective would have been very different from yours. To answer your final question: Kai saw. He knew, and later, after your parents passed, he would often help her."

"I should thank him."

"Perhaps. You should also ask yourself what you would have done—not knowing how powerful Elsa was, or how much danger you might have been in. They made the best decision they could, with what information they had. I could see it hurt them too."

Lowering her eyes, Anna whispered _sotto voce_ , not sure if she wanted Gerda to hear her or not.

"It still wasn't right."

* * *

What had surprised Elsa most wasn't that Anna had planned this. It was that she'd managed to wake up and prepare everything—with help from Gerda and the kitchen staff—before Elsa had been led there by Kai.

"Surprise!" And Elsa had been inches from icing everything as Anna half-fell into her lap. When she looked up at her sister, Elsa felt her breath catch in her throat. In the morning light Anna was positively radiant, and her choice of hairstyle inspired. Elsa swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, wishing her mind hadn't immediately dived to what was beyond the daring neckline of her sister's dress. Or what Anna had told her last night—that had forced her to seek only her own company for the rest of the evening. But this morning was a new day, and Anna deserved to know how special she was. Always.

"You look… breathtaking," Elsa had paused for only a second to find the right word. Anna noticed the pause, frowning in concern.

"Is something wrong?"

"Only what we spoke of last night," Elsa finished with a wry smile, wishing that they could talk more freely. Anna blushed slightly, hidden for the most part by her freckles. The kitchen was no place for such talk.

"Well, after I teach you how to cook everything I know, we could always take our breakfast privately."

"I would—wait, in one morning?"

Anna smiled mischievously. "You say you're a quick study."

"You know what happened last time I tried."

"Yup," Anna's smile widened. "And that's why I've gotta teach you everything _fast_. Plus, maybe you can surprise Hank with it one day—imagine the look on _his_ face."

Laughing, Elsa looked up at her sister, her voice soft. "You really want it to work, don't you?"

"You should be happy. You deserve to be, no matter what you tell yourself."

"You know I'd be happier with you," Elsa whispered, not sure she would be heard. Anna knelt in front of Elsa's chair, taking the blonde's hand in her own. Giving her hand a tight squeeze of support, Anna smiled wistfully. Elsa knew everything behind that smile, the slight, odd sadness in her sister's eyes. She couldn't—Anna simply couldn't feel the same way she did. Elsa looked away, arms drawing in so she could hug herself. Something warm and daring stopped her, a gentle smile spreading across her face. A soft kiss against her cheek. She looked up to see Anna smiling down at her, the picture of innocence. She loves me. Elsa sighed, her thoughts in chaos. That should be enough. I wish it was. I have to tell her.

Elsa was jarred out of her reverie by Anna's next seemingly non sequitur statement. "So, anyway, first you'll need a pan—" Anna was now making enough noise to wake half the castle, finally handing a small frying pan to Elsa. The blonde took it in numb hands, still somewhat taken aback. "—then, oh, no, wait, first we need to check the firebox on the sto—oh, that's hot. Good. Now the pan goes on the stove, and you find an—aha! Egg timer—while it heats up. Then we get—hey, Brigitta, did Ingrid move the eggs again?"

"She did, your highness. The pantry next to the icebox."

"Thanks," and then Anna shot off, leaving Elsa sitting in her chair between the island and side bench, feeling rather confused. She was about to follow her sister when the redhead returned a moment later with several eggs in a small basket, placing the basket in Elsa's lap before taking one and cracking it on the edge of the pan. Half the shell fell in and she winced, carefully picking up the still mostly intact eggshell with a delicate touch.

"I still can't quite do that one-handed yet—well, not all the time." She flashed Elsa a chagrined smile. Elsa shook her head, smiling back. She knew Anna would never accept any limits on her ability, no matter what had been done to her body. To her, somehow, losing an arm seemed nothing more than an inconvenience. Sighing, Elsa carefully positioned herself next to the stove, reaching over the top, and broke an egg into her pan. On the plus side, none of the shell fell into the pan; on the minus side, neither did most of the egg. She looked up at Anna, a helpless smile on her face.

"I'll find a cloth to clean that up with," Anna's voice held not even a hint of discouragement or reprimand. A moment later she had cleaned the stovetop, before placing another egg in Elsa's trembling left hand.

Elsa felt warm, delicate fingers guiding her hand to the edge of the pan before miming the motion required to crack the egg into the pan, rather than all over the stove. It mostly worked, the egg cracking halfway round instead of all the way through. Then Anna twitched her thumb, and Elsa realized she wanted her to do the same, just a little more deliberately. The egg fell into the pan, sliding from the half shells. Anna smiled at her; she smiled back. Maybe cooking wasn't so hard—and it took her mind off what she needed to say. She shook her head, listening properly to what Anna had to say about cooking.

"So, eggs are easy. Toast is even easier, and faster." With that she cut off a slice of bread, another, then two more, and placed them on a cooking tray before putting the tray into the oven itself. Elsa frowned. Surely it couldn't have been that simple; that easy. It wasn't, she found, as the morning progressed. The hard part was not mixing ingredients, but timing the cooking, and learning that some dishes even had stages where more ingredients were added, though Anna had said they wouldn't be trying to cook those until next week, at which point most of the kitchen staff laughed. It was at that point Elsa realized her sister had been joking, and the kitchen staff were in on it—even Anna couldn't cook the dishes she'd just named. Elsa felt herself smiling in amusement.

Or maybe it was that Anna only needed to know how to cook the basics. It made sense—most lighter meals seemed rather simple, and if the kitchen staff were busy, she didn't have to inconvenience them. Elsa ran through what her sister had shown her, ticking them off in her mind. Eggs, toast, muesli, porridge, oats, several kinds of fish that were surprisingly suitable for breakfast; where the kitchen staff kept fresh fruit, and also how to make a preserve from almost any kind of fruit. Of course Anna insisted they taste everything they made. It was, Elsa had to admit, a lot more fun than she had expected. A lot less disastrous too.

Eventually, finishing their fruit, they made their way to the smaller family dining room, asking the servants and staff for privacy. Elsa wheeled herself to the head of the table, and Anna sat to her right. Elsa knew this wasn't something they particularly wanted to talk about, but they had to—especially with Hank still holding himself back, and Anna still sometimes teasing her. It was just so… frustrating. She sighed, holding her peace, waiting until Anna had settled into a more comfortable pose.

"You already know how much I love you," Elsa spoke softly. Anna smiled, but her eyes were guarded. "And it scares me, Anna; it does."

"Why?" Anna cocked her head and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Because I don't know if I can _ever_ love anyone as much as I love you."

"No," Anna shook her head slowly, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I don't think that's what you're scared of. Your soul is filled with so much love, you just have to share it."

"But…" Elsa made a frustrated gesture with both hands. "I don't know _how_."

"But that's not what you're scared of." Anna stood, pacing up and down beside the table. "You do know how. With me. With Hank. Even with Kristoff, I guess—you're letting him court me, after all."

"Like I could have stopped you," Elsa frowned in mock petulance.

"I would have listened to you this time," Anna looked down, a dark expression shading her face. "I should have listened to you the first time, then we'd never be in this mess."

"No," Elsa shook her head, trying to put as much warmth into her voice as possible. "Never blame yourself for that. And even if you had listened, I'd probably still love you in all the wrong ways."

"Yeah, probably," Anna laughed softly, walking over to kneel next to Elsa's chair. "But you're not scared of not being able to give all that love to someone."

"I'm not?"

Anna placed her hand over Elsa's heart. Elsa felt the world seem to skip a beat. "No, you're not. You're scared people won't love you back."

Elsa almost rocked back in her chair. Anna's insight was staggering. She couldn't form a coherent reply to Anna's statement. Not for a long time. She knew how to love, and that was easy. She knew how to give someone all of her love—after all, she'd done it for thirteen years. What she didn't know; what she still had trouble learning, was how to let herself _be_ loved. And to let that happen in the way the other person loved her, which would not always be the same way she loved them. She moved to hug herself, but found her arms closing around Anna's shoulders, her sister's arm looping around behind her neck to pull her close.

"You don't have to be scared of that, Elsa." Anna kissed her on the cheek. "And even if someone doesn't love you as much as you love them, it doesn't matter too much. Love goes both ways, and whatever meets in the middle only gets stronger. Plus, if you tease Hank enough I'm sure he'll break out of that shell and show you how much he really loves you."

"He won't even kiss me goodnight," Elsa blushed, shaking her head. Anna giggled.

"He is so _stiff_. Half the time he was sparring with me he called me 'your highness' or 'princess'. So damnably proper—I'm sure it frustrates you in all sorts of ways. You still love him, and you still love me, even if neither of us can love you the way you think we should. You love me—even if I can't love you that way—and that's all that matters. That's how you should treat everyone."

"But you're my sister."

"Should that make a difference?" Elsa found herself staring into a stern face framing soft turquoise eyes. It wasn't fair that she should love her sister so, and expect the same in return—yet she did, and somehow still accepted the reality that it wasn't possible. But Anna's question had been revelatory. Should the fact they were sisters have made any difference? If they weren't, there was one thing that Anna might not object so much to, and—Elsa frowned, cutting that thought off before it could start. That they were sisters somehow made all the difference, but she couldn't quite see why. The answer she wanted hovered just out of reach, like a word at the tip of her tongue. It was everything she sought, tantalizingly close, and yet still so far from her grasp. She sighed.

"It does make a difference, Anna," Elsa clasped her hands at her lap. "I think it shouldn't, but it does, and I can't figure out why."

"When you do, you'll know," Anna smiled kindly down at her, eyes twinkling. "But you have to figure this one out yourself, alright?"

"Alright," Elsa nodded, setting the thought aside for later. "Do you think we should visit doctor Arnesen now?"

"I should have him look at my scars, make sure they're healing properly."

"That's a very good idea." She left out the part where it was an opportunity for her to appreciate Anna's body more… fully… than usual. Anna noticed the slight blush, and whispered something most scandalous in her ear. Elsa turned away, cheeks aflame as Anna giggled on her way out the door. It only made her appreciate Anna even more, and embarrassed as she was, she still wouldn't have traded that feeling for anything in the world. It was because of Anna, and that made it special.

* * *

Vanja Ostberg-Lang crept forwards through the underbrush, alert for anything else that might be hunting her prey. The early morning sun sent long, golden shafts through the trees, casting a dappled light on the forest floor. The kind of light that made her quarry harder to track by sight alone. Bow in her left hand, her right against the trunk beside her, Vanja's footsteps made barely a whisper over the trickling of a distant stream. Keeping low, she moved to the next tree, pulling an arrow from the quiver at her back. There it was, alert and watchful, tipping its head to the water's edge to quench its thirst. Vanja drew the arrow back, enjoying the slight strain in her wrist and shoulders.

The arrow flew straight and true, piercing the flank of the yearling doe. The deer bleated in pain and bolted down the bank of the stream. Vanja slung her bow over her shoulder and sprinted to a small tree near the water's edge. She could just see the deer in the distance, starting to stumble. There was an easy trail—hoof prints and spots of blood. The forest had gone quiet with the deer's cries of alarm, but the rushing stream and rustling leaves whispered in the light wind from the mountains, preventing the silence from being unnatural. Vanja smiled, stalking the injured doe along the tree lined banks of the stream.

Vanja felt her foot snag against a root, and suddenly she was sprawled out in the undergrowth, not quite fast enough to arrest her fall. She spat, the taste of dirt and leaves rich in her mouth. Rising, she took a quick sip from her water skin and spat again. It tasted clean. One hand went to her forehead, and came away with a streak of red. Her fingers probed the area. It hurt. Not much, but for it she felt so much more _alive_. She would live, the forest floor no more her enemy than was the sun. So unlike the queen, she knew, who seemed to shy from any kind of pain. What good was royalty anyway?

Vanja huffed in annoyance, checking that her bow hadn't been damaged in the fall. She collected a few spilled arrows from her quiver, and then set to tracking the doe she had shot. She found it a short distance away, collapsed next to some small bushes. Its side heaved with effort to produce laboured breaths, and its eyes alighted on her only to be filled with sudden fear. The huntress smiled down at her prey, kneeling to place one hand on its flank, the other drawing her knife. The deer bleated in distress, but its cries fell on deaf ears. Vanja's hand moved to cover its eyes, her knife at its throat.

"Hush, little one. This is mercy."

Red stained the forest floor as the animal's cries cut off mid-bleat. Vanja wiped the blade against her armour then sheathed it at her side. She sat a short distance away, drinking again from her water skin, and eating a small handful of blackberries she'd taken from one of the bushes. Resting against a tree trunk, furs wrapped around her, Vanja basked in the warmth of the morning sun finally reaching the forest floor. It had been a long hunt—since dawn—but in the end rewarding.

Later, perhaps during October or November, she would be hunting much more dangerous prey. It was the only way to get furs so white, after all. But that was the future, and for now it didn't matter. For now all that mattered was the yearling she'd hunted, and how much it was likely to fetch her in trade. Rising slowly Vanja strode over to the body of the yearling, straining just a little to lift it, heaving it across her shoulders for the trek back to town.

* * *

"We failed, Nikolaus," Frederik Westergard pulled no punches upon meeting his brother onboard the _Victory_. Nikolaus, sitting behind his desk in the wardroom, made no effort to reply immediately, running over the report his men had given him on ammunition spent and casualties sustained. Frederik would understand—they both had a duty to those they commanded or ruled. Neatly folding the paper, Nikolaus tucked it into the top drawer of the desk.

"We didn't fail, Rik." Nikolaus smiled at his twin. "We destroyed half of Weselton's fleet, denied the Duke his protege's return, and indebted the kingdom of Arendelle to us as a military power."

"Not so that last—they think we were trying to start a war, remember?"

"We might have, yes, should Weselton's fleet survive to make harbour again."

"You wouldn't—they surrendered."

Nikoluas rolled his eyes, his brother was always searching for definitive and final solutions. He knew little enough of the conventions of naval warfare, but did know enough to understand how important certain rituals and personnel were to the efficient operation of a fighting force.

"I am man of honour, brother. I would never condone that. I meant merely that as they had surrendered to us—rather than to Arendelle—we might take those remaining ships as prizes, depositing their crews somewhere helpfully neutral. Such as Corona."

"We lack the manpower—and what if one of the ships mutinies?"

"A small contingent of marines on each surviving ship should be sufficient. The _Victory_ can return with a skeleton crew, and the survivors from the _'hagen_ need something to do. I've recommended leaving that ship here, to be repaired by Arendelle's shipwrights, at our expense. A show of faith, if you will."

"You know they are no better than neutral to us—it could well be months before we see a return on this."

"It's not a show for the queen."

"What?"

Nikolaus smiled, withdrawing a scrap of parchment from the second drawer of his desk, marvelling at the elaborate penmanship on display. "This message comes from their marshal, Gerhardt. He offered to send one of their frigates with us, to ensure a safe journey."

"More likely to see that we keep our word."

"As I understood it as well. He also stated that onboard that frigate would be two platoons of Royal Marines, to, and I quote: 'Quell the possibility of insurgency or uprising from Weseltonian captives.' I think we can take him at his word on this one, but what was your read of him?"

"Brutally honest, very shrewd, and exceptionally dangerous—and also unafraid to criticize the queen's handling of certain military affairs. He did not say as much, of course, in front of her, but I could read it from his bearing. If ever someone were to try a plot like our youngest brother's, then perhaps the wedge to drive away the queen would come from within…"

"Fascinating," Nikolaus handed the message to his brother to read, leaning back in his chair. "Speaking of Hans, how did the queen react?"

"She asked after the fate of our youngest brother."

"And what did she say when you told her Hans was dead?"

"Nothing, though I caught a hint of relief on her face." Frederik stood straight once more, pacing behind Nikolaus. "I left immediately after, the council seemed content with my answers."

"And our gift to the princess?"

"I left Sitron with the stablehand. An unassuming sort, Harald, I think, was his name. Smart enough to care for the horses, not smart enough to ask too many questions. They did have a tame reindeer, which seems odd, now I think of it."

"Visting nobles from the border kingdoms, perhaps?"

"A definite possibility, Nikolaus; but more than that is merely speculation. I doubt we should labour the point."

"So, to our previous discussion, the marshal, and his place in Arendelle?"

"Highly placed, influential, and not as sympathetic to the queen as he appears." Frederik smiled coldly.

"Maybe Hans wasn't so misguided after all," Nikolaus dared to whisper. "He just didn't think to use the council."

"And what of our next visit?"

"You assume there will _be_ a next time, brother." Nikolaus smirked, gently reminding his brother of how much ill will had been garnered on both of the Southern Isles' previous missions to Arendelle. If they were allowed a third chance, he knew it would likely be their last. And given what the marshal had left unsaid in that message, might prove to be most profitable—or an invitation to their doom. Was it possible? He considered the message, Frederik's read of the man, what they knew of the queen and her council. What if the marshal was merely an honest man, playing the liar's game, trying to weed out such treachery before it became a problem for the queen?

Brilliant.

If the marshal was honest, then it was a trap. If he was dishonest, it was an opportunity. But the risk of seizing that opportunity suddenly far outweighed the possible gains—especially when Nikolaus tried to ascertain the odds of coming away better off if they simply remained neutral, or tried to improve their relations through more diplomatic channels. No one need know—but it was time for a decision to be made. Nikolaus's voice was a hushed whisper, forcing Frederik to lean in close.

"Arendelle now espouses a position of neutrality with regards to home. That means the next move is _ours_. I've seen enough between you, Walder, and our father to know that that means we now have a chance. This queen Elsa is very shrewd—once more she has managed to turn crisis for us into opportunity for her to judge us by our next move while still appearing so magnanimous."

"And of the marshal's opportunity?"

"It could well be a trap. I say that particular subterfuge is only if we have exhausted all other diplomatic options."

"And our military options?"

"You strode across a frozen harbour last night, tell me if you think that was natural."

"It surprises me she didn't simply use those powers to destroy Weselton's fleet."

"I think it was a delaying tactic," Nikolaus gestured expansively. "They were holding the royal princess to ransom, after all."

"So, aside from blizzards, ice floes, and snow, we have no idea of the magnitude of her powers."

"I suppose we don't," Nikolaus shrugged. "Enough delays; we will be underway before noon."

Arendelle would not have been easy to conquer at the best of times, and now? No. All they could do was wait, and attempt to prove their worth as allies. Then… then they could take what they wanted. His mind made up, if not his brother's, Nikolaus laid in a course of action. They had been away from home for too long, and he did so miss the open seas.


	76. Discovery & Discontent

"See?" Anna was tickling Elsa's foot, in front of doctor Arnesen, the castle's best physician. Elsa could see her foot twitch slightly at the touch, but still couldn't feel anything. It was an incredibly strange sensation, watching her body move, not of her own volition, and not being able to feel that movement. She wondered briefly if it was something like that—though rather stronger—that Hank had felt the first time he touched and moved her legs. It seemed likely, and now, understanding that, she assured herself she would talk more with him in order to try and resolve any lingering doubts or misgivings he might have.

"Indeed, your highness," doctor Arnesen spoke, his tone betraying his curiosity. "A most fascinating development, I must say." He turned to Elsa. "And your majesty; you are still unable to feel any of this?"

"It's true—do you know what it is?"

"I believe it to be simple reflex—and I further believe that this may even validate the claims made by doctor Hall in his paper. I am not sure you would understand in full the terminology of his paper, but suffice to say that he claims the body has multiple paths from the extremities to the brain, for the sensation of touch, pain, and so forth. Upon further observation, some such paths seem to activate too quickly for any conscious thought to be involved. Thus he claims that these reflexes are not, in fact, controlled by the brain, but the body itself.

"Your foot responding to Princess Anna's ministrations—no matter how seemingly slight—proves a perfect case for doctor Hall's theory. You have no conscious control over your foot; you cannot feel it, and yet, it still responds to your sister's touch. The reaction, whatever might be causing it, is mediated by your body, not your mind. A truly fascinating study, I must say."

Elsa nodded slowly, allowing Anna to help her sit up. It was a lot to take in, and while it was strange to hear, it also made sense. If nothing else, doctor Arnesen was very good at explaining things so his patients could understand them. He always seemed slightly distant, but Elsa put that down to his professionalism. He had no need to be overly familiar, merely polite, and possibly friendly. It was his job to keep the royal family—and the higher ranking castle staff—in good health and good spirits, as much as was possible.

"Doctor Arnesen?" Anna was looking at Elsa when she spoke, and there was a subtle gleam in her eyes. "Would you please check the cuts on my back?"

"Of course, your highness." And before Elsa could say anything Anna was attempting to loosen her bodice, with the doctor's help.

"You're not going to ask me to leave?" Elsa gave her sister a quizzical look.

"Why?" Anna gave her a knowing smile. "We've bathed together often enough. And don't _you_ want to see how well my scars are healing?"

Of course she did. But at the same time she didn't. Those scars were a reminder of how she'd failed her sister. But to Anna they were something more—not just marks against her skin, but a mark that she'd survived a terrible ordeal. Elsa looked at the floor. How could she possibly measure up to such strength? She couldn't see Anna's smile, but the warm tone forced her to look up.

"You know it's not your fault, right?"

Elsa shook her head, wishing it were true. She knew she couldn't have stopped Anna leaving that day, but she could have done _something_. Sent more guards. Trained Kristoff to fight. Insisted they go somewhere else—or even that Kristoff tell her his plans, though not necessarily Anna if it was supposed to be a surprise. Elsa huffed, rolling her eyes. Some surprise. Anna frowned at her.

"It still _feels_ like it was my fault," she finally confessed, one hand worrying at the crucifix she wore.

"But it's—Ow." Anna turned to glare at the doctor, but her voice grew from anger to concern. "Should they hurt that much?"

"Some of the cuts are inflamed, your highness. We will have to apply a tincture. Once a day should be sufficient; and please allow your skin to absorb the tincture before you dress."

Elsa wheeled herself around so she could see Anna's back. Several of the deeper cuts were a bright pink. Most had faded to nothing more than a thick line of reddened flesh. One had even started to turn white—a true scar. Elsa shook with anger, hands balling into fists. This was her fault. This was _Count Langenberg's_ fault. She heard a quiet gasp and knew the temperature in the room must have dropped. She took a long, deep breath, thinking of all the good Anna had shown her. Which only took her back to thinking about whose fault it was. She could feel the magic starting to build in intensity, threatening soon to overwhelm her control.

"Go." Anna pointed imperiously to the door, her state of undress doing nothing to undermine the authority she suddenly wielded.

For a moment Elsa was paralyzed with indecision.

"Go," Anna urged, her voice far softer. "I'll be okay."

Elsa made it halfway down the hall before she exploded, the magic spiralling out of control, a forest of razor spines erupting around her. She sucked down a shaky breath, relieved no one had been near her. Relieved that Anna had understood what it meant. Relieved to realize that maybe Anna was the wiser one. Smiling ruefully, Elsa attempted to thaw the hall. It didn't work. It also didn't help that she was now inside a cage of spikes. She put her head in her hands, leaning forward. She tried to think of Anna, of all the greatness within the redhead—she stopped. Thinking about Anna—about what had been done to her—only made her angry. The spikes had been shading from blue to a very dangerous crimson. A colour too much like… like blood. A small part of her was fascinated by the fact her ice could change colour, but the larger part of her simply wanted it gone.

Her love for Anna wouldn't work. Not in this moment. Was there another way?

She loved Hank, didn't she? Maybe not as much as she loved Anna, but she was fairly sure it was love. Elsa smiled, and her memory was of something half-asleep, floating up a staircase. Hank, carrying her in his arms. She dared to open her eyes. The corridor was still iced, and several spines stabbed at the walls. On the other hand, there was almost a path through. Wide enough for her chair, at least, and not so steep she would fall back at any point. Not as powerful as her love for Anna was, but it was powerful in its own way. The ice had turned from crimson to a rich, transparent purple. Another very interesting effect, though she couldn't quite place where she'd seen that colour before. She smiled, somehow at peace, and slowly rolled back towards the physician's chambers.

She stopped cold. It was her love for _Hank_ that had allowed her to thaw the hall. Not Anna. That meant Anna was not the only one anymore. Elsa shivered. Had she just betrayed her sister? But didn't Anna _want_ this for her? Did that mean she wanted Elsa to love her _less?_ No, it wasn't possible. But Anna had said something about having so much love to give, and not knowing how to accept it in return. Elsa shook her head—why did these feelings have to be so confusing? Actually allowing herself to feel was the easier part. Understanding what they meant—not so much. Emotions were complicated, and she knew so much more of them from the romances and adventures in the library than she did through her own experience. Fear, sorrow, regret, guilt, shame. For so long her only companions. And joy—that tiny spark of happiness when she saw Anna. But now things were changing; she was starting to understand something she thought she'd never have a chance at. Love. And even though it was wrong, and strange, and confusing, Anna was still there to help her with everything.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the door to the physician's study closing. Or the quiet footsteps approaching her. She jumped when Anna touched her hand. Anna smiled down at her before kissing her on the forehead.

"Look, you thawed it all on your own," and Anna gestured to the mostly clear corridor behind her.

Elsa shook her head, feeling ashamed. She _had_ to tell Anna. Right now. "I… I thought about Hank," she looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Anna cocked her head, clearly confused. "This is amazing!"

"Yo–you're not mad?"

Anna looked like she'd been slapped. "Why, in the nine realms, would I possibly be mad with you for learning to thaw things out?"

"Because I wasn't thinking of you."

"You're a dummy sometimes," Anna smiled down at her sister. "And I'm _happy_ for you right now."

"Wait, happy?"

"You don't have to rely on just one person, Elsa. I've been trying to tell you that—show you that, too—for a long time now. This is…" Anna took a deep breath before continuing. Elsa was expecting a high speed delivery, not the subdued awe that followed. "This is real progress. More people love you than you know. I just kinda have one itty-bitty question."

"What?"

"Why is it purple?"

Elsa turned. What remained of the ice was a deep amethyst, a clear path running through the centre of it. It hadn't all been that colour before. Nor had the colour been so rich. Rainbow crystal only came from thinking of Anna and Hank when she was happy. So what did purple mean—and where had she seen it before? She didn't have answer for herself, much less her sister. She sighed, turning to look up at Anna's radiant face, wishing she wasn't going to disappoint her yet again.

"I don't know."

Anna smiled down at her. "Why not, next time we practice, you try to find out?"

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise. That was a really good idea. So much so she wished she'd thought of it. It seemed so strange that Anna was the one that might have a better understanding of magic—just through her own intuition. Then, she had been studying just as hard Elsa recently—and maybe it hadn't all been focused on helping Elsa walk again. Maybe, just maybe, Anna had studied those ancient tomes, the ones that had seemed of no help whatsoever. Not cursed with magic, perhaps she had seen them differently. And perhaps that was the most valuable insight of all.

* * *

"And what happens if I mess up and call one of them your highness instead of your grace, or sir snooty-nose of the someplace?"

Kai dragged a hand down his face. Kristoff sighed. It wasn't _his_ fault these royal manners were so hard to remember. Well, maybe—he was courting a princess, after all. That was something he hadn't thought would ever happen. Or Elsa being so accepting of it. He had thought there might have been some protest, some contest or something in which he had to prove his worth. Nothing. In fact, the only one who viewed him with any doubt was Hank.

Kai looked up, hands clasped at his waist, the very picture of proper posture and regal bearing. Kristoff stood a little straighter in response. The castle's head servant—and his current instructor—began to speak. "Well, master Bjorgman, should you use that last one it would likely be grounds for a duel. At best. It did sound rather insulting. As for the others, it would be a great _faux pas_ , but would only lose you standing among the elite. I know of some that might demand reparation of some kind for being so disrespected."

"Like weregild?" Kristoff stared at the servant. "For using the wrong _words?_ "

"In essence, but the payment tends to be in social favours, or preferential terms in negotiation. Very few would be so crass as to demand payment. A few might demand to see you thrown out, or into a dungeon, or something equally unsavoury. I think we can avoid that though." Kai smiled. "I know at least we won't have to worry about you starting any wars."

Kristoff was about to protest when he saw the twinkle in the head servant's eye. Kai was telling a joke. Kai—perhaps the most dour man he had met—actually had a sense of humour. Or maybe he hadn't been around long enough to see it. Or hadn't been respected enough—well, for a while he had slept in the stables, with Sven. It was only at Anna's insistence that he even used the bedroom with which he'd been provided.

"Master Bjorgman?"

"Sorry, drifted off there."

"I would say try not to do that around other nobles, but Princess Anna is like as not to do that anyway, so they will likely be less shocked should you show similar tendencies."

"Maybe I want them shocked," Kristoff mused aloud. "Elsa did say something about keeping suitors away from Anna."

"And it would be most effective, master Bjorgman, if you could manage that by your presence alone. You could cultivate quite the fearsome reputation, I am sure."

"But what if I mess it up? What if I use the wrong title—and I just know it's going to happen. Dukes, Barons, Counts, Lords, Princes, Queens, Contessas—why are there so _many?_ "

"It is because everyone in the feudal ages wanted power. Only kings and queens had true power, but to show appreciation to their most valued subjects and vassals, they would gift them some power as a reward for loyal service. Some of them thought they could do the same—some succeeded, others did not. You have not had the years of etiquette lessons the queen and the princess have. I am attempting to teach you all of this, as swiftly as possible, such that when the time comes you will not need to _think_ about what to say. You will _know_.

"And should the worst happen, the damage should only be to your reputation."

Kristoff sighed, sitting on a bench at the edge of the grand hall. It wasn't really his reputation he was so worried about. He didn't really have a lot to do with nobility anyway. He was far more afraid of screwing things up in a way that would hurt Anna. In ways he might not even realize; not knowing fully how the noble world worked. When he thought more of it, it wasn't just failing Anna that was the problem. He was afraid of looking like a fool in front of her. He frowned. She had never been so self-conscious; would she really expect him to be different? Perhaps a little more refined, but he wasn't going to abandon his roots.

And fake though his title may have been, there was a nobility to his job. Not many could do it. Fewer wanted to. It was back-breaking work, with seemingly little reward—at least until the end of the season, when he could count the coin he'd made, and the ground he'd covered. All the settlements he had visited. Things most nobles would never understand. Most of them seemed to avoid hard work like the plague—and perhaps that was the reputation Kai was speaking of. If he could prove that he had worked hard, and not simply been given this position by royal appointment—which, he knew, was a horrible lie—then perhaps he might seem to be respectable enough on his own to be courting a princess. He huffed in frustration. The only person he needed to prove that to was Anna, and she already knew.

The cushion shifted slightly beneath him, and Kristoff looked over to see Kai sitting next to him.

"You needn't worry so much, Kristoff," the ice harvester was taken aback by the servant's friendly tone and casual address. "Princess Anna will be nearby during most of the event. She is just as likely to draw attention to you as you are to her. It is something you will learn to work with—simply remember that to most her awkwardness is an endearing trait. If they you in a similar light—rather than the gruff ice harvester they expect—it might put them further at ease."

Kristoff frowned, confused. "But you were saying… about a fearsome reputation… and…"

"That was merely one option," Kai smiled softly. "The noble world is not nearly so restrictive as you think it to be. Once you know the rules, you can break them—quite deliberately, in fact. Princess Anna has done so gleefully on many occasions. She did so delight in her little rebellions. Queen Elsa… well, I believe she was distracted when she broke certain rules—especially in the rescue of her sister. Other times, I am quite certain she has broken one of those so called noble rules because she thought it foolish or unjust to have followed it in the first place. Such as in her choice of consort."

"You don't want her to be happy with Hank?" Kristoff stared at the servant, unsure of what he was supposed to be taking away from this.

"I want Queen Elsa to be happy. Ideally it would have been with a prince of another—likely lesser—nation, in order to cement political, commercial, and military alliance. I doubt she would have been happy with the arrangement. The kingdom would have, but not her. Understand that I like lieutenant Erikson perfectly well as a person; even as the Queen's _houscarl_. Their relationship now is nothing if not proper. I merely fear that Queen Elsa might not be prepared to deal with the likely political fallout if their union became more permanent.

"But this talk is not meant to focus on the queen, but yourself and princess Anna; and, as a royal couple, I do believe you will do fine at the harvest festival. You could always regale the other guests with the tale of how you saved the princess. You may even wish to embellish it."

Kristoff stroked his chin, pondering those words. Not that he wanted to lie or embellish his tale of rescuing Anna—it already had action aplenty, and a goodly amount of danger. Of course he might have to omit the part about being chased by a giant snow monster. And the part where he had initially refused to help. And the part where he got thrown out of Oaken's shop. And just exactly _who_ was going to believe him about the trolls? And what if Anna challenged him on the parts he changed; wouldn't that be a disaster? Or maybe people might put it down to how different people remembered things differently.

But why not simply tell the truth? He shrugged. The truth would be so much easier, and maybe even more believable. Everyone had flaws, no matter how hard they tried to hide them, or run from them. He knew enough to acknowledge his own flaws, even if he might not want them on display in the respectable company of the harvest festival. He wouldn't have to stay too long afterwards, with autumn falling it would be time to trek back to the Valley of the Living Rock, and then up the mountains with the rest of the harvesters. He just wasn't sure how happy Anna would be with that, but, looking around, he knew Kai would never be the right person to ask. Instead, he would find Anna herself, and talk with her about his plans.

A quiet cough from Kai as he was walking away reminded him of the supposedly formal setting. Sighing, he turned, bowed, and excused himself.

* * *

Anna stood shivering in the late summer sun. She hated the feeling of fear keeping her pinned to the spot. Still just inside the gates, it seemed as if Sunday's lesson about the size of the castle grounds hadn't truly sunk in. Just outside the gates Kristoff stood, clearly anxious to help her cross the threshold. Giving him a pained smile, she waved him back. She had to prove that she could do this one little thing. Just one thing, all on her own. Just like she'd had to struggle through every other crisis in her life. Father so concerned with Elsa. Servants with running the castle and keeping secrets—not that she'd known what they were back then. Mother… she sighed. Her mother had been there, but it had taken a lot to support her father with Elsa.

Even—especially—in the fort, she'd been alone. Not helpless, just alone. She had Flynn Rider to thank for that one. She had been scared, and at times maybe even terrified, but even that had not stopped her from attempting to escape, or to fight back against her captors. Anger and determination had been her fuel. Now, with no clear foe, and a dangerous world ahead, she couldn't seem to summon quite as much determination as she needed. She looked down, pretending to study the cobbles, looking at her shoes.

One step. One little step, and still her body rebelled. It did the opposite of what she wanted—freezing instead of moving; just like when Sten had touched her, lying that that touch was good to feel. She huffed in frustration, blowing a stray hair from her face. Maybe if she surprised herself? She turned, taking a step away from Kristoff, ignoring his protest. She spun back, taking a much larger step—almost enough to launch into a sprint.

She made it two steps beyond the threshold of the gate before stumbling, falling to her knees, left arm barely catching her, hand skimming painfully across the cobbles. She knelt there, doubled over, panting as if she'd just run five miles.

"What is _wrong_ with me?" she stared disapprovingly at the cobbles.

"There's nothing wrong," she heard Kristoff sit beside her. "You're just scared."

"But I don't want to be," Anna straightened, rocking back so she sat on her feet, knees out in front. She wasn't sure she had the strength to stand.

"Then let's not talk about that for a while," Kristoff held out a hand. "Is your hand okay?"

She held out her hand for him to see. He took it gently, carefully inspecting the damage.

"You'll live," he smiled. "Wash it, in case there's dirt in any of those scrapes."

"Yes doctor," she frowned at him.

"Would a doctor do this to make it better?" She only just caught the gleam in his eye as he leaned closer, tenderly kissing her palm. She giggled.

"Maybe a troll doctor."

Kristoff looked around in mock alarm before pulling her into an almost bone-crushing hug. "I won't tell if you won't."

Then he kissed her on the cheek. She blushed. They were sitting just below the arch of the gate, not quite outside the castle, and not quite inside it either. Anna smiled, melting into the hug. Here was safe. Here was warm. That was enough. She didn't want to go back either. She blinked—she didn't _want_ to go back. Not even when she realized how close she was to being truly outside the castle. She looked over at her boyfriend, but he was just looking out to the harbour, one of the ships catching his eye. He might not have any idea of what he'd just managed to show her. She smiled, shuffling closer to him—just a tiny bit further from the castle.

Now she had a new point of safety, Anna wondered if she might be able to make it further than before. It was worth a shot. Now she simply needed a goal. She looked around before finally deciding on the bridge to the castle. That was where she hadn't been able to reach Elsa the other day. It was where she would reach today. No matter what—and under her own power. She stood so suddenly she almost knocked Kristoff over. She felt it as her legs tensed and her hand balled into a fist.

"Whoa, what are you doing feistypants?"

"I'm walking to the bridge," she nodded towards the stone edifice, then her shoulders slumped. "Can you help me?"

"You want me to drag you, like last time?"

"No," Anna smiled at the ice harvester. "Just don't let me turn back."

A hand was against her back, gently holding her in place. Anna looked down, willing her legs to move. She made it one step. One more. She couldn't make it any further.

"About the festival," Kristoff started on a tangent, gently nudging her forward. "Do I have to act all snooty and noble the _whole_ time?"

"Yes," Anna sighed, not noticing she'd just taken another step, trying to keep in step with Kristoff.

"That's going to be exhausting. I know I'm going to mess it up too."

"Oh, please," Anna waved dismissively. "It cannot be worse than the midwinter ball when I was twelve."

"Really?" Kristoff nudged her again. "What happened?"

She looked away. "I swore I'd never speak of it again."

"But how can I know I'm not going to be that bad?"

"Because they're not trying to make you marry some stupid prince from Karelia. And dance with him. And try not to step on his—hey!"

"I wasn't supposed to hear that, was I?"

Anna sighed, gently knocking against his shoulder. "No. I guess maybe you'd find out eventually. It was a long time ago."

Only then did she look up, noticing at last how close the bridge was, and how many miles away the castle seemed. Oh, he was a sneaky one. She turned to look at Kristoff, seeing the satisfied smirk on his face. Duplicitous, perhaps, but well-meaning. He seemed to understand a lot more than he let on—about people, at least. Maybe being raised by trolls had given him better insight, or just a different perspective.

Watching him instead of where she was going, her foot caught a loose cobble and she fell. Strong arms gripped her, and for a moment she flashed back to being helpless in Mikkel's grasp, about to scream. She was sitting awkwardly, a hand covering her mouth. One that smelled of carrots and reindeer. Her mind was reeling in different directions, and while she didn't want to hurt Kristoff, she wanted to escape the situation. She licked his hand.

"Eww, Anna." He looked admonishingly at her, wiping his hand against his trousers.

"From the man that shares his food with a _reindeer_ ," she gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, it's true," he held up his hands in defeat. "But then you tripped, and I tried to catch you, and you screamed, and I know I must have scared you with th—"

Anna cut off his apologetic tirade by pulling him close and planting her lips against his, revelling in the taste of the man that would be hers. It also helped with her other plan, making this place feel safe—because suddenly she was in complete control of everything—and why was he now on top of her, loosely pinning her arm to the cobbles? And smiling like that? And suddenly he was in control, his free hand running down her side, tickling her ribs and loosing an explosive laugh from her. She looked up at him with an expression of mock betrayal.

Moments later he sat against the balustrade beside the bridge, attempting to straighten his mussed hair as she did the same to her own updo and tried to adjust her dress from how it had fallen. Most improper, she decided—not that she minded if Kristoff saw, especially as she'd allowed him to see her in her entirety before, but more for the townsfolk's benefit. It wouldn't do to see the princess and her consort in wild abandon on the castle bridge. Or anywhere public for that matter. That was something for their bedchambers—both of them, and maybe a few of the secret places she'd found around the castle.

She stood slowly, using the balustrade for support, looking out to the harbour. It was still frozen, but most of the ships were gone. She squinted, looking into the distance just to be sure. Definitely gone. The huge ship—the one that belonged to the Southern Isles and their impolite prince, along with the other ships that had, she assumed, borne Weaseltown's flag. She wished she'd been paying more attention the last time she'd been out, but there had been other things on her mind. Even now that was true.

Sighing, she turned away, walking—not running, just walking, maybe a little quicker than usual—back to the castle. Elsa should know about this. Anna could hear Kristoff following her, talking softly about going up the mountain in winter.

"Mountains and winter," she turned to look at him.

"I'm an ice harvester Anna, I have a job to do, and that starts in winter."

"And…" she frowned, connecting the dots. "And you're not sure if I'll be okay while you're gone."

"That, and I'll miss you. I'll be gone for weeks, maybe even a month or two before I get back to town. Deliveries to the other towns."

"You could just deliver Elsa's ice—you could stay closer then," she smiled up at him.

"No, I couldn't." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be right, Anna. It would be too easy. I'd get lazy. Next time I went out on the ice I wouldn't be as good."

"You really have to go?"

"I want to earn my keep. I don't want hand outs. I don't want this noble drudgery. I want real work. Work I can feel at the end of the day. I don't care about letters and reports and penmanship."

"Well… you should," Anna huffed, attempting to cross her arms. Kristoff gently took her shoulders.

"I will miss you, but I'll come back. I have a reason to stay here in the summer now, instead of with my family—although it'd be nice if we visited them more."

"I still don't like it," Anna frowned at him.

"I didn't think you would," he sighed. "It's not for a while yet—how about we just leave it for now, and come back to it. I didn't want to ruin your day."

"Too late." Anna walked off, nearly running into Olaf as she entered the castle again.

Maybe she wasn't really being fair, but that hadn't been a nice surprise. She wasn't going to apologize—while she was angry it would probably come out wrong anyway. Dinner. She would cool off, maybe try and read something about magic or making Elsa's legs work, and then, at dinner, she would apologize to Kristoff—in front of Elsa. She sighed, but maybe Elsa deserved to see that things with Kristoff weren't perfect. But love wasn't perfect—it misfired and made Elsa love her; and the one perfect time had worn sideburns of pure evil.

Kristoff watched helplessly as Anna left. Olaf sidled up next to him.

"She's just mad because she likes you," the diminutive snowman spoke in a stage whisper. "And wants you all to herself."


	77. Distractions of the Soul

An undercurrent of discontent seemed to permeate the throne room. Hank watched as Elsa's hands started to clench at the armrests on her icy throne. A subtle blue glow surrounded those hands—nothing dangerous as yet, but something to keep in mind. It was also colder than when Elsa had started granting audience to the supplicants. Hank coughed softly, and the glow from Elsa's hands disappeared. The throne room didn't get any warmer.

"A short break," Elsa held up her hand to forestall the murmur of protest from growing any louder.

Hank stepped forward, interposing himself between the queen and the crowd of supplicants. One in particular stepped forward, leather gloves and slick hair easily recognisable, along with his goatee.

"Your majesty," Marshal Gerhardt bowed as he spoke. "I have a grievance."

Hank turned to Elsa, noticing the subtle shake of her head. She needed time to calm herself—and her time was more important than the Marshal's. Hank stepped forward, interposing himself between Elsa and the marshal. Behind him he heard Elsa taking a deep breath, and felt a strange tingle as she transformed her throne back into her normal chair.

"Your grievance can wait, Marshal."

"How long will the crown keep me waiting, Captain Erikson?"

"Not over long." Hank took another step towards the Marshal, away from the throne, and away from his role as _houscarl_. "Dealing with so many people in such a short period is draining on Queen Elsa. It would be draining on anyone, given the hostility today."

"Something I had not failed to notice, Captain."

"Good." Hank's voice dropped as he clasped his hands loosely behind his back, relaxing for a moment. "Tell me, Marshal, how are my men?"

" _Your_ men?" Gerhardt's tone was split between surprise and indignation.

"Ingvar, and the other Fusiliers under my command—or did you think my loyalty to the Queen overrode my concern for those I was forced to leave behind?"

"I think 'forced to' may be too strong a term, Captain. You seemed quite willing to support the Queen's schemes."

"I still am," Hank smiled. "But I remain curious as to what might have become of my men—and of course what rumours there may be concerning myself and the Queen. Barracks talk."

Gerhardt squared his shoulders before speaking, clasping his gloved hands at his waist. His voice was filled with authority, and just a shade of disappointment. "There has been some resentment at the sudden change of commanding officer, which, I would think, you already knew would happen. Ingvar did ask whether or not you would forfeit your usual contest now that you are in the service of the queen. Halle is shaping up into a fine solider now—though he was somewhat disillusioned at losing his mentor. And there is of course all manner of bawdy rumour about your affairs with Queen Elsa."

Hank laughed softly. "That last I expected. Probably good for morale, too."

"Not so much for discipline," Gerhardt replied evenly.

"They're good men."

"They are, Captain Erikson." Gerhardt looked aside, letting his hands fall to his sides. "It's just a shame the Queen robbed the Marines of such a fine officer."

Hank blinked, slightly taken aback. He had known his skills as an officer were respected, but the implication was that he was one of the finest. Which also made the words against Elsa seem so much more incisive. The sentiment behind those words _was_ fair, but—

"Your grievance is not about me stealing Captain Erikson now, is it?" Elsa asked, her voice light. Both men turned to face her. The other supplicants seemed less surprised. Elsa must have noticed his look. "Caring for my sister has taught me well." Elsa nodded to the Marshal. "Marshal Gerhardt, you had a grievance?"

"I do, your majesty; with the farmer's guild."

"And the nature of this grievance?"

"Their refusal to resupply the stocks of grain and meat in the barracks' storehouses."

"At all?"

"No. We have rations for perhaps two weeks at a time, but we ourselves have no surplus."

"I do understand the caution of the farmer's guild in this matter. They are afraid that my temporary winter may have damaged their crops, and that their harvest will be reduced. I think it safe to say that our soldiers are not the only ones who will be feeling this fear of a shortfall. You also say you have supplies for two weeks at a time—May I assume that this means the farmer's guild are at least making regular deliveries to the barracks?"

"Once a week. With the rationing we are using now, those supplies can be made to last for two weeks, though we currently only stretch to ten days—so we have some stored for emergencies or special ceremonies, but no great amount."

Hank turned swiftly when he heard the door. It opened only a crack, but in the afternoon light he caught a flash of copper hair. Anna stood in the corridor behind the throne room, only half visible from where he was standing. She smiled, leaning out a little more so he could see her wave. He waved back, barely raising his arm, his hand level with his stomach. Turning back to Elsa and Gerhardt, he wondered which of the sisters had found the other. Elsa had not been gone long, after all. Probably Anna then—she seemed to have free reign of the castle, even if now she was at least trying to take some of the royal duties off Elsa's shoulders.

"—with Søren to confirm the change."

Marshal Gerhardt nodded, bowing to leave. "Your majesty, my thanks."

Three more supplicants, and the time for airing grievances was over. Hank could see the tension in Elsa's shoulders, and the way she once wrung her hands and worried at the cross she wore. The room hadn't warmed, and seemed set to remain chilly until the evening sun finally set. Elsa sighed, setting her hands against her thighs and pressing down. A great weight seemed to settle upon her back.

"My father was so much better at this."

"Better?"

"I can't remember them ever being so hostile to him."

"Something seemed different today."

"It did?"

Hank nodded. "That hostility is out of character for our townsfolk. Something has changed."

"Their ruler, for one."

"No, Your maj—Elsa. I believe this is far more recent. I know you would not do so deliberately, but could there be something to cause such ire from your people?"

"I'm an idiot," Elsa sighed, massaging her temples with the thumb and middle finger of her left hand as she looked to the ground. "It's been staring me in the face this whole time, and I just didn't want to see it. I never wanted to see it. Tomorrow…"

"Tomorr—oh." Hank smiled ruefully. He'd promised to be by her side, as her friend, as she watched. The execution—that was what had the townsfolk riled up. Also what he knew was going to hurt Elsa in ways he couldn't protect her. Justice for her people, and her sister, but at what cost to her? Turning away, Hank clasped his hands in front of him, trying to think of the appropriate thing to say. Words failed him. He closed his eyes. Words were but the least of the support he could offer. Gently, he touched the back of Elsa's hand, then squeezed her shoulder. He walked briskly to the door behind the throne.

Anna was still waiting.

"It's safe, your highness. Only the Queen and I remain."

And he had to take a step back to avoid being bowled over by the royal princess in her haste to hug Elsa. The way they showed such affection, and the strength Elsa drew from it—that they both drew from it—he envied that. He still didn't feel worthy.

* * *

Elsa sat with her sister in the chamber opposite her own office. Gerda had delivered a small repast from the kitchens, Elsa taking a small bite from one biscuit, not wanting to ruin her appetite. Anna, of course, had no such concerns, currently on her third, and greedily eyeing up another. Elsa shook her head, a smile slowly forming on her lips. There were some things about her sister that would seemingly never change. But they had agreed to talk, and that this talk needed to happen. Elsa considered it might even help with what had to happen tomorrow. Anna swallowed, and Elsa watched as she took that fourth biscuit, eyed it warily, then put it back.

"Something wrong?"

"I think I might be eating these to distract myself."

"We both agreed, Anna."

"I know, it's just… it's hard to talk about—where do we even begin?"

"We could start with the facts: Hans lied to you; and to me. He tried to destroy you emotionally. He tried to kill me, and in doing so you were maimed saving me, and I was crippled. We—well, I—was fair in sending him home to face the justice of his brothers. We just didn't expect their solution to be so permanent. Now he's dead, and that means we're safe—at least from him."

Anna nodded slowly, taking it all in.

"Or we could talk about our reaction to learning he was dead; how shocked I was, and how you fell into a faint."

"From shock," Anna shook her head as she spoke, frowning. "But just 'cause he's dead doesn't mean the hurt is gone."

"You mean your arm?"

"No—well, yes, sort of. I don't know."

Elsa gave her sister a hard look. Anna threw up her hand in a gesture of frustrated confusion. A brief silence filled the room, and Anna held out the stump of her right arm, inspecting it with a critical eye. Elsa frowned, trying to follow her sister's gaze, tracing not the line of scars but something else only she could see. Eventually Anna let what was left of her arm fall to her side, absently itching the side of her arm with her left hand. Elsa looked away, unsure of what to say.

"It's okay," Anna spoke softly. "I've just been thinking about it more. You said a long time ago I had to learn about what this meant, accept that I might have different limits. And so many times I've tried to ignore that. I've tried to fight past everything that's happened to me as if I was always the same person—"

"You are, Anna."

"But that's just it—I am. Yet, at the same time, I'm not. I _have_ changed. In some ways I can't tell. Some ways I can. It's confusing, and I don't like being this confused. I don't like having to hide away despite _wanting_ to be with people. I hate that there are things I just can't tell _you_. I can't tell you—but I can tell Kristoff, or maybe Hank. And it feels so wrong, but I know none of you would betray me and it's just… it's…"

Anna sniffed. Elsa could see the tears welling behind her sister's eyes, but as she moved closer, Anna waved her back. Her chest grew tight and it felt as if a hand of ice had seized her heart. But then Anna drew in a deep, shaky breath, and smiled. Then frowned.

"Sometimes… sometimes I know too much about how you felt all those years, Elsa. I hate knowing that. I hate that I hate it, because that's how you must have felt about it too, and it _hurts_. And the problem is I know who to blame—or maybe blame isn't quite the right word—and I know I'm meant to love them, but it was mom and dad that made you hide. That forced you to keep it all secret. That thought I would be so _scared_ of you. I was _five_. We're sisters; did they think I would hate you? Did they think I couldn't love you anymore? That I wouldn't forgive you?! They put us through hell without ever knowing it, and I know I shouldn't, but I think I hate them more than I hated _Hans!_ "

Elsa blinked, a chill racing down her spine. Everything Anna had said was true. It had happened. But the venom behind those last words. Elsa shivered, hugging herself. Anna didn't seem to notice. And even if every word was true, that still didn't mean it was right. But Anna wasn't done, hot, angry tears staining her cheeks.

"I shouldn't hate them—I know I shouldn't. But what they did to us? And then I sorta told Gerda some of this, and how could they have known? How could they have known I wouldn't be scared—or that we would still love each other? They could see how much we wanted to be together, how I would always talk to you—well, your door. How sometimes you would try and steal glances at me when you though I couldn't see you. They thought they were keeping us safe—but we lived in so much _fear_. I thought you might be sick. Or that you hated me. Or that I'd done something horrible but no one would ever tell me because it wasn't part of those stupid etiquette rules. And you were always afraid you'd hurt me if I got too close. If anyone got too close. Why didn't they think that love could be the counter to fear? Why did they have to keep us apart? Why did they have to _die_ so we could finally see each other again!?"

Anna squared her shoulders, taking a shaky breath, her voice suddenly quiet as she finished.

"I hate them. They loved us so much; they tried to protect us, but I hate them. I don't _want_ to hate them. I just want them back… I miss them."

Elsa closed on Anna, drawing her into a hug, wiping away her tears. "I miss them too. They tried so _hard_."

Anna sniffled, her arm around Elsa's shoulders. "I wish it felt like enough."

Elsa said nothing, just tightened her arms around Anna. There was no need for words now—and she needed time to _think_. Anna had raised several valid points about their parents. But she didn't know the whole story. Didn't know what King Agdar had known about other magic users. His worst and most absolute fears. A fear that was now at least half-realised, though that was something that might be too damaging to know—what their father had thought would be the very worst case scenario.

Anna looked up, and Elsa looked into red-rimmed eyes. Anna smiled sadly, not turning away, trying not to break the moment. She opened her mouth, stared to say something, thought better of it, tried again, then huffed in frustration, gently pushing Elsa away, and finally picking up that fourth biscuit. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she ate. Elsa watched in silence, intrigued by the sudden change in her sister's demeanour.

"What?" Anna fixed her with a stare.

"You just…"

"Oh,"and Anna laughed, the sound rippling around the round. "I used to do that a lot. Eating helps me think sometimes."

"Seriously?"

"Well it gives me time to think of a reply—and maybe make sure it makes sense. Plus, no one expects a princess to reply when she's got a mouth full of cake, right?"

"Right," Elsa laughed softly, then clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "I don't want to bring down the mood—"

"—but we were supposed to be talking about something important," Anna's expression hardened, then faded to neutrality. "We have to, even if I don't like; or even if you don't like it."

"And later, if you want, we can talk about papa, and mom."

"Maybe," Anna frowned. "Where do we start about Hans?"

"I think I covered the basics earlier."

"You did, so… uhh… maybe how he hurt us?" Anna beckoned Elsa forward, holding out the stump of her right arm. "You know, even after all this time, you've never really _looked_."

Elsa looked away, remaining in place. Screams and blood filled her mind, flashing back to the day the mangled ruin of her sister's arm had been removed. Anna might not know what she'd done, but Elsa knew it all too well. She even remembered being asked to stay—that merely being asked was the only reason she _had_ stayed. She had been so afraid, so discomfited, that she had nearly run away. Again. Apparently Anna's thoughts had been running along similar lines.

"You stayed with me."

"I did," Elsa smiled.

"Just look," Anna urged, and this time Elsa couldn't look away. This time she saw the tiny pinpricks where the stitches had been. Saw the lines where her sister's flesh had been cut and drawn in order to heal over the bone. But she couldn't see the point where Hans's blade had struck. That was gone forever. Like him. With her left hand she traced a line down the outside of Anna's right arm, fingertips barely brushing the scar where two lines of skin met. Anna still shivered and drew away.

"No," Anna held up her hand to forestall any apology. "It doesn't hurt. It's just… that was… I think it's kinda ticklish."

With her right hand, Elsa traced a line from the top of Anna's sleeve, around the inside of her arm, and down over the stump. No twitching this time. Elsa frowned, looking to Anna for an answer. Anna just shrugged. Elsa probed gently at the end of Anna's stump, trying to ignore the occasional twitch of that arm.

"It's okay, Elsa. It really is. Plus, this is one of things I was talking about the other day—because I'd never really taken the time to explore how my body had changed either."

"Not just your arm?"

"You… well…" Anna's cheeks coloured slightly. "Let's just say some of that exploration was best done away from any prying eyes." A wicked grin crossed the redhead's face. "Or lustful sisters."

Elsa rocked by in surprise. How _dare_ Anna make light of that. How dare she do it _right_. It really was the perfect riposte, and as they were alone, who else would know of the context? Elsa sighed—why couldn't Anna take it seriously? Then again, only last night she had taken it very seriously indeed. Maybe it was about boundaries? Or was it changing the dynamic between them? They were still sisters. Still best friends. And, she recalled, still had a habit of teasing each other about their dinner dates.

"But you said I could," Elsa put on a petulant air. Anna laughed.

"Yes. In your dreams."

"Indeed," And Elsa feigned falling asleep. "Good night, my devious princess."

Anna rolled her eyes. "I don't think either of us wants to have this talk right now. Even you can't take it seriously."

"Not a problem I could see in advance. I miss when we used to be like this."

"Before the kidnapping," Anna took a deep breath, letting her shoulders fall as she exhaled. "Everything was different. We were safe. Happy. I guess that just couldn't last."

"You know how hard it is for me to just be happy sometimes," Elsa spoked softly, taking Anna's hand in hers. "I remember how scared you were that first night back. But it's not about these things lasting forever—nothing ever does. It's about moments. Do you remember when you finally made it out of the bath?"

"I just sat next to you, sopping wet, and tried to get you to understand."

"Without saying a word. You asked me to kiss it better."

"I did," Anna smiled, a soft laugh following her words. "Do you remember the cave?"

"Where _you_ kissed _me?_ "

"Yes."

"I know it shouldn't, but it felt so _right_."

"I think it was the place. It was safe. Beautiful. Full of magic. I don't think it was about you _or_ me then. And you remember we talked, too?"

"I asked about…" Elsa frowned, struggling to recall. "I asked about what it felt like to be frozen—to die."

Silence answered her. Anna was frowning, trying hard to hide her shivering. She placed her hand against Elsa's heart. "Please don't ask again."

"I won't," Elsa looked away even as she took hold of her sister's hand, feeling the fiery warmth in the gesture. "I think it hurts worse not knowing."

"I don't know, maybe," Anna's voice was carefully neutral. "I don't want to hurt you, and I'm afraid knowing might hurt you more."

"We're overprotective idiots," Elsa spoke with a good deal of irony in her voice.

"You noticed." Anna smiled, looking away for a moment. "You think we should change?"

"Well, you _could_ be a little more responsible."

"And you could smile more—I'm sure Hank would appreciate it," Anna finished with a wink.

"Wait, what?"

"But maybe it's harder to smile, ever since Hans hurt you too."

"It wasn't that," Elsa looked up as Anna moved around behind her.

"I know," and leaned down to tickle Elsa's ribs, eliciting a most un-queenly giggle from her sister. "But I still wonder…" her voice trailed off, and Elsa felt a warm hand slide down her back, lower and lower until… nothing. "You know, I think it's a real shame you can't feel this right now."

"What, exactly, are you doing?"

"You'll never know," and Anna was hunched over in a most devious pose. "And I'll never tell. Maybe Hank will find out."

"Anna…"

Anna smiled far too sweetly, sitting back in the chair opposite Elsa. She rested her chin against her knuckles, staring at Elsa. Elsa frowned, irritated, trying to figure out just what her sister had done. She shifted awkwardly against the back of her chair, trying to feel anything. There was nothing—at least, nothing she could feel, and she couldn't well get up and look at the seat of the chair either. But maybe there was a way… could she feel things through her magic? She knew she could move things with it, but feeling, sensing with it? Something worth experimenting with.

Elsa closed her eyes, breathing slowly, feeling the gentle push of the magic against her control. Neither she nor it was straining. She felt it swirling around her hands. Slowly, carefully, she directed that energy back up her arms, first at her wrists, then her elbows, and then further still to her shoulders. She had to fight to ignore a quiet gasp of surprise from the chair opposite her. She could feel the flow of her magic—could feel its fabric, and yet could not feel it against her skin. Yet she could use both to explore the cloth from which her dress was made, one to feel warmth and comfort, the other to almost see the warp and weft, the fine stitching around the seams. A strangely detailed and yet incomplete picture.

Taking another breath, Elsa willed the magic back down her arms, slowly opening her eyes. A shimmering frost coated her arms, weaving gently over her skin. As she touched her hand to her arm, a ripple spread out in the frost, icy blue shading white then settling back to pale blue. She hadn't felt the touch against her skin—but she had felt her magic react. Not just the ripple, but a tingle of sensation that had sent gooseflesh racing down her arm. Something more was happening than just mere touch.

Anna approached as Elsa beckoned for her, then gently touched Elsa's arm. At once the sensation was different, and the frost swirling around her arm shaded not to white, but to a rich purple. The tingling rippled across her body; her whole being. It felt as if she was being enveloped, and there was an instant of blind panic as she felt the magic doing more than just reach for her—but Anna's fierce embrace held it at bay.

"I'm here," Anna whispered in her ear. "Also, cold."

Elsa shook her head, trying not to laugh. She let go the magic trailing her arms, and as it faded she felt the barest hint of it returning—not surging out of control, but more as if it were reluctant to leave. Then she saw what she had just experienced for the event it truly was. She had brushed against the source of her magic, with no small amount of care; experimenting. It had tried to touch her in return. There was no malice in that. Just what did it mean?

There was another pressing question to be answered as well. "Anna, what did you do to me?"

"You mean all your magic-y stuff right now couldn't figure it out?"

"Anna…"

"I am a terrible person," Anna smiled, leaning closer to whisper in Elsa's ear. "I didn't do anything."

"What?"


	78. The Quiet Dark

Anna looked suspiciously upon her dessert. It seemed to be a much smaller portion than she was accustomed to. Judging by the smile tugging at the corner of her sister's lips it was also some sort of revenge for her teasing earlier. Not entirely fair. That was when Elsa offered Anna a piece of chocolate from her plate. Anna looked at her sister, surprised.

"Truce?" Anna nodded at Elsa's suggestion, taking the chocolate. "And I have to know—did you really do anything this afternoon?"

"I wish I had, so you could have surprised Hank with something risqué."

"If I did that, I think he might faint."

"He is so _stiff_." Anna leaned to the side, stealing another chocolate from Elsa's plate. For some reason Elsa's chocolates _always_ tasted better. In a way she was glad that neither Hank nor Kristoff was there. It meant she and Elsa could discuss things more openly—and even though she'd managed to joke about it before, she knew Elsa's attraction to her was a serious issue. And with her growing closer to Kristoff—enough that she knew one day they would consummate the relationship, to use one of those fancy words Elsa liked so much—this was something better discussed sooner than later.

Anna stood, stealing another chocolate from her sister's plate. Elsa looked up at her, confusion evident in a subtle frown on the blonde's face. Anna looked back wistfully at the chocolate, but she was already halfway to the door, and Elsa hadn't moved. Anna beckoned for her to follow. Elsa raised an eyebrow in silent question, but Anna said nothing. Instead, she headed for the stairs, up to the first floor, towards the conservatory. She had a feeling it would be better for a discussion than the ballroom—a place filled with too many memories for her sister. She wanted quiet, a place to think; to talk and reflect. The conservatory at night seemed the perfect idea.

Elsa also seemed to be more open and talkative at night; that was another reason.

A subtle chill filled the air as they entered the conservatory, and Anna watched in the wan moonlight as frost spread beneath her sister's chair. Elsa had stopped at the threshold, a pained look on her face. Anna turned and sat, facing her.

"Bad memories?"

Elsa fidgeted with her cross. "Recent ones."

Anna craned her neck to look out the window, seeing the stars in the blackness beyond. She remembered how Elsa would sometimes watch the stars out her bedroom window. Another place of sanctuary. This was the same, and from Elsa's sudden trepidation she understood that this, recently, was somewhere her sister had sought to escape her troubles. There was another place with stars shining above, clean water falling upon them as they gazed skyward. Somewhere it seemed that nothing had been forbidden, and everything was possible. The place Elsa had first truly opened up. The place they had shared that first, fateful kiss.

"Do you remember the cave?" Anna asked in a reverent whisper, only half-facing her sister.

"I could never forget."

"We talked about everything—we tried to."

"And you kissed me."

"I did," Anna nodded slowly, slowly feeling the weight of that act fall upon her. "Maybe it was silly, but I wanted you to know how much I love you. Of course, you might have taken that love a little far in certain… dreams…"

"Dreams?"

"You made an ice sculpture. Of me." Anna smiled as she saw the colour rising in her sister's cheeks. Maybe it wasn't always fair, but it was fun to tease Elsa about the little things.

There was silence, for a time. The moon rose, and the stars shone. The night was clear, and in the distance they could just make out the torches along the city's wall. The wall was old, and now only served to divide the townsfolk from the farmers and their fields. That had been in one of their history books, and Anna couldn't say why she'd recalled that memory. Something about outsiders. Kristoff. Leaving for the winter. He would be far beyond that wall, up in the mountains harvesting ice. Too far to talk to, maybe even too far to visit often.

Anna turned to look at Elsa. "Is it hard to get to the mountains in winter?"

"Somewhat. I know from Papa's documents it's not too long to ride—a day, perhaps, in good weather. But most say it is not so difficult as it as dangerous for the unprepared," Elsa looked away a moment. "Like we were. You were lucky Kristoff found you."

"Excuse me, _I_ found him." Anna looked at the floor, shaking her head sadly. "And now he's going away."

"He doesn't want to court you anymore?" There was no hiding the surprise in Elsa's voice.

"He wants to… he just… he's an ice harvester," Anna tried to explain.

"And he needs to work in the winter. Then, in order to work, he needs to be in the mountains—away from you."

"Yeah," Anna nodded, frustrated.

"You could go with him—"

"What?!"

"I would miss you terribly, but if you wanted to keep him close, I wouldn't stop you. Or I could order him to stay here with you, which we both know wouldn't work." Elsa clasped her hands in her lap, thinking. "Ice harvesters make regular trips into our towns to deliver ice. You could meet him when he makes his deliveries."

It was a good plan. The problem was it meant she would have to leave the castle. A lot. Anna sighed, turning back to the stars. She wished these were things she didn't have to think about. There was a lot she wished she didn't have to think about. Like the fact her sister loved her as far more than just a family. Or that their parents had driven so great a wedge between them that it had nearly destroyed them—and both of them still suffered the consequences.

Consequences.

Anna looked at what was left of her right arm. A consequence of saving her sister, and a scar she would bear for life. She shook her head slowly. She had come to terms with that quite some time ago. Aside from the odd nightmare it hadn't affected her so much. Her left wrist, however—she looked at the raised line around half of her wrist. Cold fire traced that line, and warm, thick blood flowed down her forearm. She looked away, shaking her head, screwing her eyes shut. Elsa caught the motion, rolling forward.

"Anna?"

"I'm okay," Anna opened her eyes, looking out at the stars. It felt like she was lying, but she couldn't say why.

"Are you?" Elsa asked softly, and Anna turned, intrigued that her sister wouldn't completely believe her. Elsa smiled down at her and lifted Anna's hand in her own as a show of trust and solidarity.

Anna remained silent.

"I've been there," Elsa spoke into the night, allowing Anna the opening to ask questions or speak out. "Papa helped me first. Then Kai. Now it's you. You and Hank. I thought I wanted to be left alone. You showed me I was wrong."

Anna turned around, smiling. "You never have to be alone, you know that."

"I know," Elsa smiled back. "But sometimes I need to be."

"Like last night."

"Like last night," Elsa agreed quietly.

"You came here, didn't you?"

"How do you—"

"I saw you pause at the door, I saw that little shiver you can probably hide from everyone else," Anna let the words hang between them for a moment. "It's okay. I think this place is perfect if you need somewhere to think, somewhere quiet, and beautiful."

"Our cave was better," Elsa's voice was softer now, and she sat in her chair next to Anna.

"Oh, it's just ours now?"

"Do you really want anyone else finding it?"

Anna shook her head, knowing Elsa was right. The cave _was_ theirs. Theirs and theirs alone. She wasn't even sure she wanted to tell Kristoff about the cave—and she wasn't sure if that was bad for keeping her own secrets, or good for keeping Elsa's. She shrugged, turning away from her sister, looking out at the stars, seeing the northern lights beginning their dance as the moon rose higher. She lay back, and was surprised to feel herself hitting a pillow of snow. Beside her she could hear a soft shuffling, the sound of fabric against the floor. A warm hand gently twined fingers with her own.

She didn't care if anyone saw. Elsa was special. Her sister, her friend, and wanting to be so much more. None of that mattered in this moment, as they both looked towards the heavens, the same stars, the same sky. No words need be said, she knew—moments like this simply were, and as she lay back with Elsa beside her, for a while the whole world seemed to simply drift away. They were no longer queen and princess, friend and stranger, or less and more than sisters. They simply were, and it was enough.

* * *

Sitting in the old study, Kai and Hank were deep in conversation, a chessboard between them. They were currently on their third game, and the portly old servant would occasionally rise to stoke the fire, continuing the conversation all the while. Sitting back down he moved a knight, capturing one of Hank's bishops. Hank's smile was now somewhat concerning, and Kai was forced to study the board more closely for any traps he might have missed. There it was, an interesting gambit that would probably be mate in another two moves.

"Well played, Captain," Kai's voice was even as Hank's queen captured his knight. Bold. "I'll wager you might even prove a challenge for the Queen herself. Briefly."

"Elsa plays?"

Kai's hand hovered over his bishop, seeing a clear line to take Hank's queen—but if he did so now, Hank's other bishop and rook were both in position to check him by taking the bishop. Formidably well played.

"Everyone in the royal family knows how," Kai studied the board, but there was no way out. "You play very well yourself; I concede."

"You see no point in playing it out?" Hank asked, sounding a little disappointed. He soon changed tack. "Elsa must be the better player. I'd wager she learned from her father?"

"Her mother too. Queen Idunn was quite a formidable player, and was able to keep a strong challenge for King Agdar time and again," Kai gently began to steer the conversation back towards the matter at hand. "Of course, Queen Elsa has had far more practice. She has had a long time over which to refine her skill."

"Some might say she had too long," Hank busied himself with resetting the board for another game. "Even she admits she spent too much time alone, and that sometimes being so alone scares her. She has asked me to be her protector during those times."

"What of other times?"

"I am her _houscarl_ , Kai, and her friend, I will _always_ protect her."

Kai sighed softly. Hank was a good man, but they were talking in generalities. He wanted specifics. "And what of tomorrow, Captain Erikson?"

"I promised Elsa I would be at her side, to support her, though I am not entirely sure how."

Kai smiled softly, opening play in the next game between them. "More than anything, Queen Elsa is unused to having friends. It pains me to say this, but she has been too independent for most of her life, and thus, she does not know how to ask for help. Or perhaps I should say _when_ , as she has asked both of us, apart, to listen to her; to protect her; and to simply be there for her. She forgets, I think, that there are people who care as strongly for her as she does for her sister."

Hank frowned, but not at the game. "I think, perhaps, a lifetime alone has forced her to always look inwards for a solution to her problems—who else did she have in that time but herself?"

And there was the crux of the matter. Kai knew well the extent of the problem, and of the odd way in which Princess Anna seemed to be teaching the queen both greater self-sufficiency and less forced independence. An interesting dichotomy that, though it might also have been spurred by Queen Elsa's attempts to surprise her sister with cooking of dubious merit. According to Gerda, once had been enough—but then events had spiralled out of everyone's control, and Anna had, for a time, forgotten about that plan. It was only the other day said plan had been resurrected; about the same time Kai had been helping her research various forms of crutches and splints.

"She did not know it," Kai spoke softly. "But she could have asked for help at any time. Those of us that knew, we were all willing to help. We did, on King Agdar's proviso that we not be seen to be helping with her powers. If only we'd known then that Princess Anna was the key, and that bringing them together would solve everything."

"The king was doing what he thought best for his daughters. I cannot fault him for that."

"It is hard to speak ill of the dead, but in this case I do believe King Agdar was in the wrong. For a time Queen Idunn had pushed for their daughters to have some contact, but the king's arguments were more convincing. I believed them, and I was wrong to do so."

Hank smiled, moving a rook. "I doubt Queen Elsa blames you for that."

Kai smiled back, moving his knight. "I became her confidante. I believe she saw in me something she could not see in her father."

It was true, because after after that night where Elsa had nearly thrown herself from the tower in a foolish attempt to spare Anna more pain, she'd been unable to see any hope. Especially when she received the news that her parents were lost at sea. It had taken a long time to get her to do anything. She had refused to eat for nearly a week, and had been so exhausted she'd been unable to bathe herself. Gerda had been scared that she might simply let herself waste into nothingness. Then Anna had passed one final note under that door. No one else knew what the note had said, only that it was the last word to pass between the sisters before the coronation.

Once again Kai smiled, leaning back in his chair. Let them keep their secrets—the world needed that mystery.

* * *

Having someone else intentionally seek out his bed was a new experience to Kristoff. His family of course had been somewhat free with who got which bed, and oftentimes they would roll around at night, winding up in someone else's bed. Or his. But that wasn't usually an intentional shift, and he considered it part of his family's charm. Anna, however, had an unfortunate habit of also elbowing him in the ribs as she moved around.

"Do you have to move around so much?"

Anna mumbled something in reply, pulling her arm in. Kristoff wrapped his arms around her—not just to show affection, but to keep her from flailing about again. He placed his chin against her shoulder, and could feel the warmth of her body as she pressed her back against his chest.

"Will you be okay tomorrow?"

More mumbling.

"Anna, you know it's important."

An angry huff. "Fine."

"Well?"

"I'll be fine, Kristoff, just let me sleep."

"I know someth—ow. That was deliberate."

Anna turned to face him in the darkness. "I can't go. She needs me, and I can't go. I can't even tell her why. But I have to be strong for her here."

"Then wouldn't it be better for you and her to be together right now?"

Hearing her sigh, Kristoff felt warm breath against his cheek. It still felt strange to be so close to another actual person. She seemed to be looking away, but it was hard to tell as she shifted under the covers. Something was bothering her, and it seemed likely it had more to with Elsa than it had to do with leaving the castle.

"Have you two been fighting?"

"NO!"

Kristoff pulled her into a loose hug before she could protest more physically. "Okay, okay. I was just asking."

"It's… it's just complicated between us," he could almost see her smile in the dark. "We're sisters."

"Family is always different," Kristoff kissed her forehead. "I should know."

"Yeah," Anna mumbled something more, pressing into Kristoff's chest. He smiled, resting his chin against the crown of her head, his hands tracing an idle pattern down her back. She shivered slightly, and winced.

"The scars still hurt?"

"One or two are bad," Anna sighed. "The physician gave me a tincture to use."

"Did you want me to stop?"

"No…"

Continuing to trace his fingers down Anna's back, Kristoff slowed his movements, gently dragging his fingertips about her waist. She shivered again, breath becoming shallow, but he could feel the raw heat of her body now. She wasn't afraid. She trusted him. He moved awkwardly under the covers, his hands now running around her thighs, the only thing between him and her a thin layer of fabric. He was sure she would be able to feel his growing excitement, her right leg pressing almost painfully against his groin, but she said nothing. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him higher, her lips pressing hard against his.

The kiss broke, and she turned away, rolling over, her back to him. What had he done wrong?

"I'm still mad at you."

"Because I want to do do my job?"

"Yes!" There was a pregnant pause. "No." Another pause. "I don't know. Do you really have to go?"

Kristoff sighed, pulling her close. This wasn't the time to talk about serious matters. Not the best time, at any rate, but Anna being Anna would insist on talking anyway.

"I have a job to do; a lot of people need ice."

"Elsa can make ice."

"Enough for the whole kingdom?"

"She froze it, didn't she?"

"And look what that did to her."

"Freezing everything didn't hurt her, Hans did."

"Because she froze everything."

"But she's better now. Much better. And anyway, if she made ice, she'd still need people to deliver it," the sudden deviousness in Anna's voice was greatly concerning. "And, after all, she named you 'Royal ice master and deliverer'."

"That's not a thing."

"It could be. Then you wouldn't have to go away. Or… well… delivering things. But the point is, you'd always come back, to get more ice and stuff."

Kristoff blinked. It wasn't what she had said, but what she hadn't. She wasn't afraid of him leaving—she was afraid he wouldn't come back. She just didn't know what she was afraid of. He rested his chin on her shoulder, whispering in her ear as one hand slid down her side.

"Just for ice and 'stuff'?" There was a slight mocking tone to his voice.

"Well, yeah."

"You can't think of anything else?" Kristoff let his hand wander past her hips, gently drawing his fingers towards her stomach.

"No fair, you're teasing me."

"You really can't think of any other reason for me to come back?" He started tickling her belly, her laughter echoing in the night. "Not even one?"

"Okay, okay, enough," Anna squirmed out of his grasp under the covers, rolling to face him once more. In the moonlight from the window he saw her face grow serious. "You'd come back, just for me?"

"I came for you in the fort, didn't I?"

"But you didn't leave me then."

"You think I want to leave now?"

"You always said you were happier alone. Living off the land."

"I am. But maybe someone showed me I don't have to be alone all the time. That sometimes people can surprise you."

Anna smirked. "I'd like to meet this someone."

"Well, she's got great hair, and lots of energy at inappropriate times, and makes friends with snowmen; oh, she has a sister too, kinda bossy. Wouldn't let her do things."

Anna leaned in for a kiss. "Her sister doesn't know about _this_."

"Just as well," Kristoff laughed softly. "I like my butt un-frozen."

"I like your butt un-frozen as well. Wait, what?"

"Just try to get some sleep, feistypants. You can admire my butt in the morning."

Anna pulled the pillow over her head and screamed. Kristoff laughed. This was why he loved Anna. She was so unlike anyone else, it was impossible not to. In a way, he knew—and he also knew his family would tell him—she was a lot like him. Outcast. Different. But with so much to give. Including odd mumblings as she fell asleep. As sleep overcame him, he wrapped his arms protectively around her. He had to keep the nightmares away.


	79. Destiny's Ruin

**Trigger Warnings: Death by Hanging  
**

Vanja yawned widely, throwing the covers off. She'd slept far more soundly than she'd thought, though her dreams had been filled with a dark longing. Seeing her own death no longer mattered. She had reached an accord with death that night, years ago; the hours that destroyed the old, weak Vanja, and forged her warrior spirit. She was no longer so afraid of death as everyone else. Death was as natural as life itself, and far more inevitable. The trick was not to hide from death, but to embrace it. Every hurt, every cut, every scar; all of them were that much closer to death—but without them she wouldn't be alive at all.

Rubbing her knuckles, Vanja threw off her nightclothes. Only here, in this house, with all those locks bolted, was it safe enough not to wear her armour. Only here did it feel more comfortable without it. She ran her hands down her arms, her sides, over her chest. She felt every little cut and scratch. Every scar. Especially the one just left of her navel. It wasn't her first. The one that hurt the most; long after the fact. The one that had robbed her of a different future. The reason she wanted to find her attackers and repay them in kind.

A pair of breeches had been slung over the side of a chair, and it was then that Vanja remembered today demanded more formal clothing. For now, though, those, and a simple blouse would do. It wasn't like she had company for breakfast anyway. Lifting the mirror lying atop her dresser, Vanja frowned at the tangles in her usually smooth hair. The comb worked well enough, and she put the mirror down, deciding she would braid her hair after breakfast. She wondered idly which of the other townsfolk would make an extra effort today, and quickly decided she simply didn't care.

Shaking her head, Vanja sat down to enjoy her breakfast. A simple affair, porridge, mead, and slices of orange—the fruit harder to acquire of late, though Per Johanssen claimed it was because oranges were now out of season in Spain. Capitano Ortiz's gifts might bear that theory out. Vanja resolved to check the ledgers again on that account later. It would also be interesting to see what else the Spaniards had dropped off. Vanja almost choked on a spoonful of porridge as she recalled the lamprey Ortiz had eaten, claiming it to be a delicacy. Suddenly she was less interested in knowing _everything_ he might have left behind.

Instead, finishing breakfast, she busied herself with the notes Ansa had scrawled about the execution as a ceremony. Justicar Kristoffersen had undersigned said notes, though the Queen's signature was curiously absent. Vanja wondered if that meant Queen Elsa hadn't been informed of all that would happen. It seemed unlikely, given Kristoffersen's attention to detail. Perhaps she had simply assumed that his signature would be more than sufficient in this case. Or maybe she didn't want to get her hands dirty. That seemed more likely; make the decision, leave the dirty work up to her subjects. She wasn't different from any other royalty.

All the salient data memorised, Vanja set the notes aside and collected her armour. Frowning in annoyance she returned it to its place, shrugging off her blouse. Formal clothing. She started with a comfortable undershirt. Then tights. _Then_ her armour. The lining under the cut Larsson's switchblade had made seemed rougher, maybe matted. Too late to do anything about it. Next was a pale blouse, off white, and slightly too large. With the armour it fit perfectly.

Breeches—proper ones, with leg buckles, ostensibly used for riding. After buckling them Vanja started the search for her best—or at least cleanest—pair of boots. She didn't have any. Frowning again she heaved her favourite pair onto the table and began quickly polishing them. It helped a little, but all she could really hope was that anyone really important wouldn't be interested in her feet. Pulling the boots on, she was ready.

Almost.

She sat at the table and propped her mirror up against a pair of old ledgers. An appropriate hairstyle was easy. A kind of veiled braid that left loose hair hanging at the sides of her face. She pulled the braid up and wound it into a bun, securing it with Larsson's switchblade. Let that be the last thing the traitor saw. Vanja smiled darkly, standing. Her smile faded. Now, in her capacity as aide to the council she had to collect Søren. That was an errand she could have done without. She sighed. Picking the mirror up off the table she checked her appearance—suitably stiff and formal—then placed the mirror back on her dresser in the other room.

Her furs still hung on the wall as she left, and for a moment her mind flashed to that vision of Queen Elsa wearing nothing but a white fur coat. It seemed it didn't matter how much she disliked the Queen, Elsa was coy and attractive, and that was maddening in more ways than she could currently mention. Vanja slammed her fist against the door as she left, savouring the sudden spike of pain. It still didn't clear that image from her head.

She cursed. "Why me?"

But that no longer mattered. She was out the door to start this black day. It was time.

* * *

Anna mumbled something and tried to hug the empty air as she struggled not to wake up. It was too late. No, it was too early. She didn't _want_ to wake up. It wasn't fair to be awake this early. Let Elsa have the morning, they could share the afternoons and evenings. Someone was walking softly around the room, and it took her a moment to remember she was in Kristoff's room and not her own. And that he'd said something about admiring his butt.

She cracked one eye open, trying not to move as she scanned the room for her boyfriend. He waved at her from next to the dresser—his clothes _still_ in a rucksack on top of said dresser. Anna pulled the covers back over her head. She heard Kristoff struggling into said clothes.

"You'll be okay when I go with Elsa today?" His voice was light despite the seriousness of the question.

Anna lowered the covers, meeting his gaze. "I don't know." She sighed softly. "I should be, I guess. I could keep Sven company for a while."

"He'd like that, but I know you have better plans."

"I do?"

"Well, the whole town—or most of them, I guess—will be watching the execution. It might be safe to leave the castle. Just for a few minutes."

"Maybe," Anna looked away. "I'll try."

"What if you meet us on the bridge when we get back. I'm sure Elsa would like that."

"She would, I just… I don't know, Kristoff. I just don't know."

"You'll be alright," Kristoff leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I keep seeing more and more of you."

Anna smiled, then reached for the collar of Kristoff's shirt and pulled hard. Their lips met firmly, and she pulled him deeper into the kiss. It lasted more than long enough, but Anna still wanted more. Kristoff gently pushed her down.

"Whoa there feistypants, I gotta get ready."

"But it's so _early_." Anna's protest fell on deaf ears as Kristoff continued to dress himself for the day ahead. Nothing fancy, she noticed, but then again he still did need breakfast, and she'd seen his table manners. Well, actually, it had been hers that had put soup all over that shirt. She smiled at the memory.

"You could get up and have breakfast with me."

"You share with Sven."

"He's gotta eat too."

Anna huffed in frustration, pulling the covers back over her shoulders. It wasn't likely to be something she could ever change. Kristoff patted her on the shoulder as he left.

"Sure you don't want to join us for breakfast?"

Anna just shook her head, waiting for him to turn around and leave. He had, after all, said something about admiring his butt in the morning, and she intended to do just that. Without him noticing this time, of course. She watched as he walked slowly from the room, feeling herself start to blush. She smiled, knowing any other dreams she might have would be much happier.

* * *

Elsa stared at what was left of her breakfast, chewing without any enthusiasm. She didn't feel like eating. Or sleeping. Or doing anything other than running away, for that matter. It didn't seem to matter what she did, people were getting hurt because of her. She saw Hank frown at her from across the table.

"Don't beat yourself up so much," his voice was far lighter than it should have been. "You'll see Marshal Gerhardt out of a job."

She almost spit her breakfast all over the table. _Hank_ , making a joke like that? She swallowed, thumping her chest. Hank just grinned at her. She crossed her arms and frowned at him.

"It's serious. We all know that, Elsa. This happens, and you're afraid. I understand—how do you think I felt the first day I was given a command of my own?"

"You didn't kill six people."

"Neither have you."

"It was my decision. _I_ chose this course."

"Would your father have chosen differently?" Hank frowned at her, his expression deadly serious.

"He's not—"

"Would he!?" Elsa gasped in shock as Hank cut her off, the force of his question stunning her.

Looking away, not meeting his gaze, Elsa searched desperately for an answer she wished she didn't know. But Hank was right; her father would have done exactly the same. He was just more sure of his rule. Sighing, Elsa looked up, meeting Hank's gaze and shaking her head.

"No; Papa would have chosen the same."

"Then why?"

"Because I feel responsible."

"You are, and you aren't. You're the Queen Regent, you have the power to decide life or death for your subjects. You also have the responsibility to protect them. You want to save them all, but sometimes, to save the many, the few must be sacrificed. To many that would seem the easy choice."

"You don't think so?" It was an intriguing thought, that though the decision was the logical one, it was not the easy one.

"No. Every soldi—Every life is important. A decision like that cannot be made lightly, but once made, must be followed with utmost conviction," Hank smiled, reaching across the table to take her hand. "I admire you for both."

Elsa smiled and looked away, wishing that such admiration didn't fill her with shame. It wasn't fair, but it seemed of late that life was hardly ever fair. Perhaps all the ups and downs evened out in the end, but she would have much preferred an even spread from the start. Then again, that might have been too bland and boring. She sighed, looking forlornly at the rest of her breakfast. It was a shame to waste it, but she just wasn't hungry anymore. She pushed the plates away, taking one final sip of her drink.

"Not hungry?" If Hank hadn't noticed the change she would have been worried.

"No," she shook her head. "I just don't feel like eating right now."

"In that case, would you please hand me that jam?" Elsa could only stare at him. "It's cloudberry, right?"

"Yes."

"How often do you think soldiers—even officers—got to taste something like that?"

"Oh." Elsa shook her head in embarrassment, passing the jar to Hank. He did make a good point. And for a moment at least he'd managed to take her mind off the execution. She might just make it through the day. She sat in silence as Hank finished his breakfast. One of the kitchen staff came in to clear the table, and though she hid it well, Elsa could see the disapproval on the woman's face.

"You'll fade away to nothing if you don't eat, your majesty."

"I couldn't finish."

The woman had no further reply, collecting what plates and glasses she could carry before another member of the staff came through to complete clearing the table. Elsa placed her head in her hands and sighed, leaning against the table. She felt as if today was the day of her own death, and she was simply waiting for her body to catch up. She felt defeated; as though she'd a lost a game that ran by rules she'd never known. There was no one she could turn to. No one that truly understood. She let out a defeated breath, whispering to no one.

"I failed them."

A hand against her shoulder caused her to start, and she looked up into Hank's steel grey eyes. He smiled softly and knelt next to her.

"Who did you fail?"

"Arendelle." It was obvious, wasn't it? If she'd been a better queen then those men wouldn't have tried to kill her. She wouldn't have been forced to execute traitors. She wouldn't be depriving a good man of his son. She shook her head, wishing none of this had ever happened. Even as far back as the fjord itself. Was Anna's life worth so much more?

Always.

It was worth even more than her own life. She had said once that she would sooner see Arendelle burn than abandon her sister. A wave of regret washed over her when she realised that that might just come true after today. Anna, one; Arendelle, nothing. But she was the queen, and that meant she had to put her citizens first. Their needs; their safety. But it was hard—so hard—to shift Anna aside in her mind. Her sister had saved her—often without knowing—on so many occasions.

"Elsa?" Hank shook her gently.

"What?" she couldn't help but snap at him; interrupted so suddenly she'd completely lost her train of thought.

"How have you failed Arendelle?"

"I'm a lousy queen; I got my sister kidnapped; I've killed six people; I have to execute a good man's son—take your pick."

"Your people love you, Elsa. Total strangers came to your aid on the docks, protecting you before anyone really knew what was going on. People don't do that for lousy rulers. If the rest of Arendelle thought so little of you, do you think they would have turned on those assassins so swiftly?"

Elsa shivered, hearing that scream again. One of the men attacking her torn apart by her own citizens. The town guard had needed to protect the others, lest the same thing happen to them. A smoking flintlock on the cobbles, hand still around the wooden grip. Even _Marshal Gerhardt_ had come to her aid. Arendelle did love her; but she couldn't say for how much longer. It was a disturbing thought, but the majority of her citizens had wanted to lynch the assassins on the spot—they cared not for due process, only vengeance. She shivered again. How could citizens that loved her so be so bloodthirsty?

Shaking her head, Elsa pushed herself away from the table; away from Hank. Her voice was a plaintive whisper. "What am I going to do?"

"You're going to change into something stiff and formal, and probably black," Hank spoke matter-of-factly. "You're going to talk with Anna—please don't interrupt—and probably Kristoff, even though he is likely to be at your side anyway. You're going to watch—probably force yourself to watch—the execution of six men proven traitor to the kingdom. You might wind up in that dark place. You'll come back here. Pick at your dinner while we tell you it's alright. Something might keep you awake; you might call on Anna, you might call on me. Then you'll fall asleep, and for a while, at least, you'll forget all about this.

"But when you wake up tomorrow we're all going to be here for you, just like we are today. Arendelle is still going to love you. Anna is still going to drive everyone mad. Gerhardt is still going to be abrasive. Gudbrand is still going to be there to salve your conscience. But do you know what you're not going to do throughout all this?"

"What?" Elsa gave her _houscarl_ a reproving look.

"Ask for help."

Any protest died on her lips. He was so right it _hurt_. She didn't know if she wanted to hit him or kiss him. Probably both. She turned away, hiding her indecision. Hiding the fact she wanted help, so very badly, but was afraid to ask. Always afraid. It was hard to ask for help—at least with things this big. No one else understood. No one else really had a chance of understanding. Maybe she wasn't being fair. Maybe she just couldn't explain things well enough for others to understand. She sighed, reaching up to grasp Hank's hand as it squeezed her shoulder.

"I just want to get through today."

* * *

The house was alien to him, he'd spent so much time of late in his workshop. The mirror backing Sylvi's vanity—he couldn't remember when it had cracked down the side. Part of his reflection splintered across the crack. Even that wasn't it. He blinked. The man in this mirror was not him. It wasn't meant to be. One hand slammed against the top of the vanity. Hollow eyes stared back at him from the cracked glass.

No son of his would have attacked Elsa like that.

Then Bishop Gudbrand's words rang again in his ear. Konrad was still his son. Of his flesh and blood. The last thing that would remind him of Sylvi—that gave him any connection to her. But all of that, everything, he'd put it behind him. He knew it was all his fault. He had failed to protect Sylvi. Failed to raise Konrad properly. Now all of it came back to tear them away from him forever. Søren turned away in disgust.

"Søren!" A loud banging at the door, the voice familiar. He couldn't bring himself to leave Sylvi's room.

"Søren, I swear if—" the door creaked open. Vanja's next word was much softer, searching. "Søren?"

Footsteps in the hall. Søren looked up to see Vanja looking uncomfortably formal, her traditional furs nowhere to be seen. She frowned at him, then turned away and stood just outside the door to Sylvi's room.

"I know. I'm a councilman," Søren couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice.

"At least I won't have to drag you again."

Søren frowned. "Again?"

"Never mind. Tidy up. Fix your clothes. Fix your hair. We have to go."

Groaning, Søren made it to his feet. He walked across the hall, past a stoic Vanja, and into his room. What had been his room before he started basically living at the workshop. The only things in it now were his formal clothes and a more comfortable bed. He didn't deserve that comfort. He had even considered selling the house, expanding the back of the workshop into something more homely; more liveable. It was the better option.

Only half-closing the door—more from carelessness—Søren stripped down and changed his clothes for more formal attire. The same clothes, in fact, that he had worn when Elsa had pronounced her sentence against his son. Trousers of dark grey wool. A clean white shirt. He frowned. White was the wrong colour for an execution. Searching the drawers he found an older, slightly worn, black shirt. Much more appropriate. Tucking the shirt in he closed the red leather belt with his badge of office wrought on the buckle—one of his first pieces of work for the guild. Last, hanging in the small wardrobe in the corner, he found two jackets; one of grey wool, and one of royal blue. Only the grey jacket had been his.

Another reminder of how distant he had been towards his only remaining family. He sighed, slipping on the grey jacket, pulling the door open again from its half-closed position. If Vanja, standing outside, had seen anything then she was hiding it exceptionally well. That didn't stop her frowning at him.

"Your hair."

He ducked back into Sylvi's room, the mirror on the vanity there. His hair really was a mess. He ran his hands through it to no avail. A comb. A stiff brush. Even a touch of oil could not seem to make it behave. He groaned, sitting heavily on the seat in front of the vanity. Slowly at first, but with growing purpose he wove his shaggy mane into a warrior's braid. He was at least presentable now. Vanja leaned in, nodding once at his improved appearance. He stood, slowly, trying to cast aside the memories.

One morning, in bed with Sylvi, a four year old Konrad bouncing on the bed between them. Konrad, not quite seven, helping—well, 'helping'—Sylvi prepare _krumkaken_ in the kitchen. In the guild workshop, Konrad, maybe six, maybe eight, trying to shape nails in the afternoon. Søren stopped, overwhelmed. There had been so much good; so much happiness. Once. Long ago. Now Vanja was almost forcing him to the door. He took one last look back through the house and knew it would never be a home again.

* * *

Elsa knew that nothing could have prepared her for this moment. Under her father's rule she could recall only a single public execution—one she had not seen, but only heard of. A murderer, unrepentant, almost proud of what he'd done. He had been too slight for the fall to break his neck. Those present had said it was fitting, given he strangled both victims. That was only one thing she was afraid of seeing. She turned to Hank.

"I don't want to be here."

"I know," Hank placed a comforting hand against her shoulder. "This is a dark day for all of Arendelle."

"I know they don't blame me," Elsa gestured to the crowd gathered in the town square. "But I still feel guilty."

"These men could have souls black as pitch, Queen Elsa, and still I think you would feel guilty for condemning them so."

Elsa let out a humourless laugh. The sad part was he wasn't wrong. Just like before. It was as if the burdens of her people were hers as well—as if she had to solve every problem herself. She looked down, folding her hands in her lap. She knew where that line of thinking would inevitably lead. Instead she searched the crowd for faces she could recognise. Torsten—the Justicar's assistant. Kristoffersen himself, a few paces away. Mistress Hoeflor, the ageing seamstress. Per Johanssen was absent, as it seemed was Marshal Gerhardt.

It was hard to miss Søren, standing some distance around the square, away from the rest of the council members present. Next to him stood a blonde woman Elsa didn't recognise. Not until she turned to look at something in the distance. With her hair taken up so severely, and without her customary furs, Vanja Ostberg-Lang was completely different person. Elsa shivered, not able to tell why, frost gently dusting the dais around her. A gentle tap at her shoulder warned her what was happening—agreed in case she was preoccupied.

"I know, Kristoff," she turned to look at the ice harvester. "I just can't dispel it right now."

"I think the townsfolk are more concerned with them anyway," Kristoff jerked a thumb towards the guards leading out the condemned prisoners.

Elsa turned slowly, watching as the men were led up the short steps behind the gallows. One of them turned and at first she thought he would try and run—he did, but at her, not away from the guards. She shivered again. Some of those men were truly dangerous. Like Larsson, who had managed to serve the council for years before betraying them all. And even in knowing that, she felt no better for what was to come next.

It was Konrad Sørenson that stood out the most. Anxious, afraid, clearly searching for something he could never find in the crowd. As the last of the traitors was marched into place a hush fell over the square, the townsfolk quiet, almost expectant. The dirge continued, changing slightly in cadence. Elsa frowned in confusion, straining to hear something in the distance. It was almost…

Overcome  
And completely silent now

It _was_ a song. Slow and dark, and the singer's voice—she would have missed it if Søren had not turned to her in that moment.

With heaven's…

The song faded as the wind shifted slightly. Her attention was drawn back to the gallows; the guards; the six condemned. A noose was placed over each man's head, cinched around his neck. Elsa swallowed in fear, her throat suddenly dry. The dream that had seen her death, the coarseness of the rope scratching at her neck. She knew what had to come next. She knew, and she felt it as her nerves betrayed her, ice building slowly around her. She swallowed again, suddenly short of breath. Thinking of Anna to try and thaw the ice would end in disaster. All she could do was halt its advance and hope that it was enough.

It didn't matter, no one was looking at her. Everyone in the square was transfixed by the figure in black mounting the stairs of the gallows platform. The guards stepped away, and the man placed both hands against the lever for the trapdoors. Elsa took a shuddering breath, the whole world seeming to distill itself into a single moment—the moment her decision became truly irreversible. The wooden lever was drawn back with agonising slowness, and Elsa watched as a crack yawned ever wider beneath each man's feet.

She could see fear, terror, panic, acceptance, rage, betrayal and more in their eyes. She watched as they fell. Watched because she simply could not turn away. She watched as Larsson fell, his seemingly slight frame still heavy enough to break his neck. She watched as Konrad fell, gasping only once before falling limp. She watched as a man whose name she didn't know gasped hopelessly for air, his own weight crushing his windpipe into the heavy rope. She watched as that man struggled against his chains, his body trying in vain to suck down any air—anything to stave off death another instant. She watched as that same man's eyes grew more and more distant, seeming to dim from inside.

She watched as that man hung limp from the rope around his neck. She could not say when he had died. It had not been sudden; there wasn't a moment of clarity. He had been alive, and struggling; then he was dead. They were all dead, and now there was truly no return from this moment. But there was something that scared her far more than that thought. Far more than any of her dark thoughts of late.

She had watched six men die, some quickly, some slowly. It had been her responsibility to judge them, to decide their fate. It had been her burden to watch as their sentence was carried out. But more than that, more than watching their deaths, more than fear of what the townsfolk might have done, she was afraid most of all of what she had felt while watching that man die.

Nothing.

* * *

The sun breaking through the overcast sky seemed a counterpoint to the weight of the day. Vanja stood with Søren near the town square, and opposite them sat Queen Elsa in a simple, sombre dress of black with gold detail—the royal crest of Arendelle. Behind her stood her _houscarl_. The royal princess was nowhere to be seen, yet her consort stood only a few paces distant from the queen. Søren followed Elsa's gaze towards the middle of the square.

Six nooses hung from a single, sturdy beam.

The dirge began, a low drone that quickly overcame the hushed conversation across the crowd. Søren turned when he saw a flash of red hair in the distance. Red hair flanked by green coats. The town guard, two men leading each prisoner into the square. Their hands and feet were shackled, but their spirits had not been broken by their imprisonment or their sentence. One of the men turned and his eyes filled with fire when they lighted upon Elsa. He tried to rush from the guards but a sharp yank on his chains put paid to that plan. Søren allowed himself a bitter smile. At least some of the men bound for the gallows deserved their fate.

Larsson seemed to be strangely at peace with his fate. Perhaps peace was not the right word. Beside him Søren saw Vanja smiling darkly towards Larsson, a gleam in her eye that was more than a little disconcerting. He understood then. Larsson was not at peace—he was simply less afraid of death by hanging than he was of death by _Vanja_. Søren turned, but seeing Konrad being marched up those steps meant he could no longer look away. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. And yet, somehow, his voice carried through the crowd.

So glad to see you well  
Overcome  
And completely silent now

Søren looked to Elsa as the words came so slow, but he wasn't sure if he was singing it for her, or for Konrad.

With heaven's help  
You cast your demons out

He looked between the queen and his son, wondering whose side heaven was on, and who was really the demon. Konrad, for attacking the queen? Elsa, for her powers? Both of them?

And not to pull your halo down  
Around your neck and tug you off your cloud

Everything seemed to be slipping away, the guards lowering the noose over Konrad's neck.

But I'm more than just a little curious  
How you're planning to go about  
Making your amends  
To the dead

To the dead

And suddenly he understood. The song was not for Konrad, or Elsa, or even Vanja. The song was about _him_. His story. His failures. His _life_. He watched as the guards tightened the noose around his son's neck. Nothing seemed real anymore. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak, and yet his voice carried on, slow and mournful from within the crowd.

Recall the deeds as if  
They're all  
Someone else's  
Atrocious stories

But they weren't. The deeds were his. The breaking of his family had been his very own doing. A wave of shame and guilt washed over him, so powerful it brought him to his knees. A light shone in the overpowering darkness, and with a start he realised someone's hand was holding his, pulling him up.

It was Vanja.

He turned away, not meeting her gaze; trying not to meet Elsa's either; trying so hard not to witness what was about to happen. The sudden fear in Konrad's eyes was like a dark beacon, a soundless siren drawing him in. He stood firm, his heart breaking inside, the words of the song giving lie to how he truly felt.

Now you stand reborn before us all

So glad to see you well

The guards stepped back, leaving the condemned alone on the gallows. The dirge stopped. The crowd murmured as the executioner stepped forward. Søren watched as the man placed both hands against the lever. He turned so sharply he collided with Vanja, but she barely seemed to notice—like the rest of the townsfolk in the square, she was transfixed. In the silence he heard a whispered voice. A song. His song.

And not to pull your halo down  
Around your neck and tug you to the ground

A creak, and a snap. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. The song continued to torment him. He couldn't speak, not even in a whisper. The song echoed in his mind, giving him no respite until he accepted its final words.

But I'm more than just a little curious  
How you're planning to go about  
Making your amends  
To the dead

To the dead

With your halo slipping down  
Your halo slipping  
Your halo slipping down  
Your halo slipping down to choke you now

The town square was silent. It seemed there was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do. Søren opened his eyes to see Vanja next to him. Closer than just next to him, stray hair brushing against his cheek. She spoke softly, pushing him away.

"It's over."


	80. Winds of Change

The sheets were horribly tangled, and yet somehow the red haired princess of Arendelle continued to sleep. Fitfully. Thrashing. She rolled, fist slamming down against a pillow before once more falling still. Alone, her mind wandered in dark places, her light sleep veiled with a nightmare masque. She turned again, violently tangling the covers even further. Tangling them so much she could no longer move.

She woke, breath coming in short gasps. It felt to her as if she'd been running a marathon—or fighting for her life. Possibly both, given the blurry images she could recall of her morning dreams. They had been much, much worse than what she'd wanted to dream about; now something she wasn't sure she should even think about just yet. She turned, blinking against the sudden light, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her morning nap had been far from restful.

Yawning, she sat up, slowly untangling herself from the sheets. Sheets that weren't even hers. She blinked, taking in the room—Kristoff's room. The only real sign he lived in this room was his duffel—still packed—atop the chest of drawers in the corner. It was as if he had always been ready to leave. Waiting. But even then he had joked with her, asking if she could think of any reasons for him to return. She blushed, recalling that she had overlooked what was probably the most obvious reason of all. Her.

He had said he would come back for _her_. Of course, that also meant he had to leave. She sighed, swinging her legs out of bed, wishing she'd had the presence of mind to 'share' some of her clothes into Kristoff's room like she had Elsa's. Still, a nightgown was not the worst thing anyone had caught her wearing—at least not for a few years. She padded softly from the room, bare feet cold against the hardwood floors. At least the rooms upstairs had large rugs, and some of the hallways had proper carpeting. But not down here in the guest rooms.

She paused, hand against the banister for the main stairs. Someone was following her. She could hear quiet footsteps—but how could anyone like that have gotten inside the castle? The red haired princess stole up the stairs and waited on the next landing, hefting a vase to use as a weapon. The person stalking her rounded the corner and she swung the vase hard.

"Hi An—naaaaaaa." Olaf's head bounced off the wall and tumbled down the stairs, his body frantically turning, tripping, and skidding down behind it. Anna rushed down the stairs behind the tumbling snowman, helping him put himself back together.

"Sorry Olaf."

"I don't think I'm gonna sneak up on people anymore."

"Did someone else hit you?"

"The big old lady dropped the laundry on me and I went to pieces," the snowman laughed. "The chef stabbed me, I think, but maybe falling on him was a bad idea."

Anna frowned reproachingly at the snowman. "Does Elsa know about this?"

Olaf clasped his hands together and tried not to look at her.

"Well, I guess if you stop doing it, I don't have to tell her."

"Deal!" And with that the little snowman ran off, leaving Anna quite confused trying to figure out anything else he might have been responsible for.

Anna shrugged, standing, climbing the stairs to her room feeling a lot lighter. There was something infectious about the little snowman's mix of innocence and mischief. Back in her own room, the first thing Anna saw was the mess of fiery hair that she would need help taming—but later. First she needed clothes. Someone—probably Gerda—had laid out a black dress; likely to be used if she had accompanied Elsa. She was even tempted to wear it simply because it was the closest piece.

But no, she wanted something a little brighter, something that Elsa would be glad to see her wearing. A wicked smile crossed her lips. Something that Kristoff would be glad to see her wearing—and not wearing. Perhaps enough to give him reason to stay, despite his determination. Unfortunately, as a royal princess, she hadn't been allowed to have such things anywhere near her dresser, let alone wear them. That didn't mean she couldn't have them now, though. Of course, that would mean talking to the seamstresses and commissioning a new dress. So instead she chose a simple cream-coloured _bunad_ with a rich green pinafore dress underneath. For today at least.

Her hair, on the other hand, was something that required immediate attention. Gerda had said something about calling the castle's gardener. Anna moved slowly, pacing the the hall between her and Elsa's rooms, waiting for Gerda to appear. She didn't, so Anna huffed, balled her hand into a fist, and went hunting. The castle's head maid had to be _somewhere_ nearby.

"Your highness," She froze at Kai's greeting. "Looking for Gerda, I assume?"

"Y–yes. My hair," and Anna tried to tease out a tangle with her fingers for emphasis.

"A dire need, I see. I shall find her presently—will you be waiting in your bedroom?"

Anna frowned, considering. She shook her head. The bedroom really was the only option. She nodded slowly for Kai's benefit, then retraced her steps back to her room, sitting on the stool in front of her vanity. It did not take long for Gerda to arrive—even if it had felt like hours. Anna reminded herself it was probably just because she was hungry. But first she had to be made presentable. It would only take another five minutes. Hopefully.

In the main hall, heading for the stairs, Anna suddenly found herself stopped dead, with nothing nearby. Nothing and no one. It wasn't from fear though. She looked around, trying to find the source of her sudden immobility. Shortly she found herself staring blankly at the suits of armour lining the wall leading to the staircase. Armour that needed very little help to stand. Walking over, she knelt next to one of the suits, examining the leg parts. They only needed help to stand because they could _move_. If they couldn't… Anna smiled, a new thought forming. I know how I can help Elsa with practice.

The next stop, then, would be the library, and possibly another Flynn Rider story—the one where he used a puppet and a torch to distract the guards of the ancient fort. But _after_ breakfast.

* * *

Marshal Gerhardt lifted a small pewter cannon in one gloved hand, placing it on the seaward border of Weselton. If the missive Vanja had given him the previous day was true, then the diposition of forces within that country would have changed significantly. Especially now, knowing that the Southern Isles had destroyed three troopships, and now possessed more than half of Weselton's naval strength as spoils of war. The time was right to inflict a counterstrike against Weselton.

Except Arendelle was always short on troops—not quality of men, but quantity. Not nearly enough for a formal siege, invasion, or any major offensive action. A raiding force, on the other hand… Gerhardt stroked his goatee, smiling at the map laid out on his desk. After all, Weselton did not need to be captured, merely punished—even if the Queen might disagree to such a course of action. If she even knew.

But that thought threw Gerhardt into a quandary—queen Elsa, while a pacifist, was still a surprisingly shrewd and calculating ruler, so obviously her father's daughter; yet there remained the fact she would likely object to, or even veto, any actions that would be taken against Weselton. A loss of trust, in order to carry through a successful action. A loss of face to maintain a tenuous relationship with the Queen. Or perhaps a third option—suggest the action to captain Eriksson, and he would at least mention it to the Queen. Manipulative perhaps, but it seemed the most likely to get results.

Of course, all that mentioned nothing of the special orders given to the two platoons of Royal Marines that were helping sail the Southern Isles' prizes back to their home port. Even if the crown likely had their own agent in place under king Christian, it would not hurt to have a second source of information that could be used to better verify any such information gained. That, perhaps, the Queen would need to be told, because even though king Agdarr had placed that agent within king Christian's realm, it was still possible his daughter was unaware of that agent's presence. Which would explain…

No. Gerhardt steepled his fingers, staring past the map and out the window of his office. Few enough could have seen Prince Hans's treachery—even he had failed to see it, and he considered himself an excellent judge of character. So no, queen Elsa could not be blamed for overlooking that. It might not be so problematic an issue to discuss with her, however. After she had returned from the execution. Gerhardt stood, striding purposefully from his office, locking the door behind him. The castle was far enough from the barracks that he could call the walk there long. Not so far that he would arrive after her, however.

The town itself was quiet, storefronts generally closed, locked, but not boarded up. The general hubbub came from the town square—where the traitors would be hung—and as always, from the docks, despite the current immobility of the ships trapped by queen Elsa's ice. In fact, most of the discussion on the docks would probably be _about_ the ice. And about the fact the ships flying the Weselton flag had by now sailed over the horizon, accompanied by the Southern Isles' _Victory_ and her attendant escorts.

One of those Islander ships had been left anchored just short of the ice floe, obviously intended to make port for repairs. A show of trust, perhaps, and definitely an avenue by which to see the skill—and speed—of Arendellan craftsmen. It would also mean shore leave for the crew, and a further chance for them to gain information on Arendelle itself, while appearing to be in a much weaker position. Perhaps it had not been as coldly calculating—the ship was listing, and de-masted to some extent—but it was still convenient for that eminently treacherous family. When the time came, a visible but unobtrusive guard would have to be put around that ship, and what those sailors saw Gerhardt also wanted to know, to better judge the Islanders' true intent.

A slight chill caught his attention, and Gerhardt turned back towards the town square. It was getting darker, low cloud seeming to blanket the town. There was no wind, but a light snow was beginning to fall. The Queen's emotions once again betraying her to her people. Gerhardt resisted the urge to brush the tiny flakes from his hair or jacket—they were no impediment to him. Not even rating as an annoyance. And at any rate, a quick dusting once inside the castle would deal with the problem. If only all Arendelle's problems could be so easily solved.

The palace guards saluted as he approached the gates, but did not relax their hold on their weapons. Pacifist though she might be, at least the Queen insisted on strongly disciplined and dutiful guards. Neither of the green clad men spoke as Gerhardt passed between them. The main door of the castle itself was apparently unguarded, but only the smaller portal was unlocked. Inside, in the main entrance hall, was a very peculiar sight.

Princess Anna—it could be no other with that hair—sat cross-legged in a dress, several books spread in a broad circle around her, paper resting on her right knee as she sketched something with her sole remaining hand. She scribbled down a note, then began to chew on the end of the pencil. Sticking the pencil behind her ear, she picked up the front plate of a disassembled greave, clearly inspecting it for some unique mark. She was completely engrossed in her work, and that concentration seemed completely at odds with every story he had so far heard of her scatterbrained proclivity.

"Well don't just stand there, Kai, help me clean up this mess."

Only then did the young princess turn around, her eyes wide with shock.

"N–Not Kai," she thumped her chest, taking a deep breath. "I mean, y–you aren't Kai."

"No, your highness," Gerhardt clasped his hands behind his back. "Marshal Gerhardt. I would say it is safe to assume your sister is not back yet."

Anna could only nod.

"I can help put that armour back together."

"No. I can fix it." The voice that came back was quiet, but very firm. "You should wait outside Elsa's office."

There was a strange authority in that quiet voice. Gerhardt took a step back. This was more like the stories he'd heard. Something still rang untrue, but it seemed more like the headstrong princess he'd heard so much about.

"Ah, Marshal Gerhardt," Kai's voice greeted him from the base of the stairs. "To what do we owe the… pleasure?"

"I wish to speak with Queen Elsa, on matters of state—and security." Gerhardt only just caught the flash of recognition in the old servant's eye.

"I will make arrangements so that you will not be disturbed. The waiting room is opposite the royal offices." Kai gestured to the stairs as he spoke, giving the Marshal permission to move deeper into the castle.

As Gerhardt climbed the stairs he heard the conversation continue in the main hall.

"Princess Anna, would you like some help with your project?"

"Well, I guess Elsa would like it if I put the books back in the right places…"

* * *

Buí watched the _bautasten_ warily as he circled through the forest. The snow was a lesser concern now, falling only within a few yards of the standing stone. The ice underfoot was also gone. But if he approached any closer, a bitter cold seemed to shake his very bones, driving him back at every turn. If this truly was the source of the witch-queen's powers, it had a mind of its own—and knew it was under attack. The possibility that it was not the source of her powers was even more terrifying. He tried taking another step forward.

A splintering crash sent him sailing through the air, into the nearest tree. It hurt. Groaning, he sat up, rubbing his back and legs. At least his wounds hadn't been reopened. Whatever it was, it was proving even more dangerous than he had first thought—and now he had no way to get near it, let alone hurt it. He had, some time earlier, attempted to shoot the ice and stone with his crossbow. Something had happened, and the bolt had stuck fast in a thin sheet of ice. Now it lay a few feet from the _bautasten_ , close enough to taunt him, far enough to be completely out of reach.

The air had changed and he could feel an almost electric charge, like a thunderhead blackening the sky. This, though, was something far darker. Witchcraft, of a type he had never thought to see. A chill wind stirred across the forest, and carried on it was a voice of silk and steel. The words were old—too old to understand—and yet, the message itself was clear: He was not welcome in this place. The point was emphasised by an arctic gale, driving him directly away from the standing stones.

But even as that wind drove him away he could hear a plaintive voice, speaking those ancient words. Ancient words, and a name.

Elsa.

* * *

Hank pushing her chair, Kristoff walking at her side, Elsa felt completely numb and empty. How was it possible she'd felt nothing—absolutely nothing—when she'd watched that man die. No shame, or guilt, or remorse, or joy, or satisfaction, or even contempt. Nothing. Just this… emptiness. She sighed, finally aware that they'd made it back to the bridge to the castle. A sudden gust of wind tore through the town, and she saw Kristoff shiver, and behind her felt Hank do the same. Both men looked at her. She looked at them, confused.

Hank frowned, stopping. "That wasn't you?"

Elsa shook her head.

"Nothing?" Kristoff asked.

Clasping her hands in her lap she turned and looked back along the bridge. Something strange was going on—both Kristoff and Hank had felt something like her magic, except she hadn't done anything. Nothing had leaked. Nothing had pushed to be let out. Even the light snow had stopped falling by the end of the execution. Blinking slowly, a sinking feeling in her stomach, Elsa held out her right hand, terrified of what would happen next.

Nothing.

No magic.

No ice. No snow. Nothing. A shiver ran down her spine. She was so disconnected from her emotions that she could no longer control her magic at all. But wasn't terror an emotion? She tried again, focusing on that sudden fear. A few snowflakes fell. A wall of ice immediately surrounded her as she felt a sudden rush of… something… return to her. Another gust of wind, gentler this time, but on it there seemed to be a voice.

A voice speaking Old Norse.

A voice calling her name.

A voice calling to the last of the _seidr_.


	81. Sisters

Elsa took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

When she opened them she was standing—standing—in the forest. It was winter, snow falling between the trees, the stream recently iced over. The snow crunched underfoot, and the odd dead leaf crackled as she stepped on it. Someone nearby spoke, but in Old Norse, too quickly for her to comprehend what was being said. Or to find where the words had been spoken from. But the forest itself looked familiar. She frowned, scrutinizing every last detail. The stream cut around that rock, and that fallen tree wasn't there—or anywhere, for that matter. That clearing was overgrown, and if there was indeed a rabbit warren there then… Elsa shook her head, not fully understanding what was happening.

"Elsa?"

Another voice on the wind, but masculine. Strong. Familiar. She smiled, Hank's face appearing before her. She blinked, staring straight into his eyes. They were on the bridge to the castle, stopped a short way across it, Kristoff leaning back against the side, looking slightly uncomfortable. No forest. No voices. But then, that forest hadn't quite seemed real, and yet it was still more vivid than any dream she could remember. At least any dream she wanted to remember. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes again.

She was still on the bridge, Hank starting to look slightly concerned. Her brow furrowed in consternation. Just what was going on here? She turned to look at Hank, a questioning look in her eye. He simply shook his head, and made a confused gesture with his hands. Kristoff continued to look uncomfortable, and it was looking at him that made her remember the trolls, and their magic. A magic she had seen once, so long ago. A magic that had led to all this—but had there been more? What was the missing piece?

Anna's memories… the trolls had changed them. But were those memories the only ones so changed? And why had her parents not argued more strongly against it? Was there something more to Anna's growing suspicion? Closing her eyes once more, Elsa took a breath, trying to understand everything happening right now. Once more she could see the forest—something less, and something more. A ghost of a forest, something long since gone, and yet still pervasive. Winter had fallen on the forest, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the mouth of a cave.

Hers.

The one only she and Anna knew of. The one from… blinking against the sudden sunlight, Elsa looked around the bridge, no longer sure if she was entirely sane. There was no reason to be seeing these things, and yet… and yet there was. A word carved in ancient stone. _Bautasten_ that rested outside their cave. A cave marked firmly on a map from a former age, a world that held more wonder, more danger, and… maybe—just maybe—more magic.

"I have to get to the library." She was halfway down the bridge, wheeling her chair along, before she heard hurried footsteps behind her. At the main entrance Kai only just managed to get a word in as she streaked past—but that one word was enough to make her stop cold.

"Gerhardt."

"What?!"

"Waiting in your office, your majesty. He said it involved matters of state and security—quite specifically, in fact."

Elsa sighed, looking away for a moment. "I have to deal with this. I need to use the library later. Research."

"I'm sure your sister will enjoy the company."

"She's there too?"

"After talking with Gerhardt, she mentioned something about armour and movement, and ran off there."

It took Elsa almost a full minute to school her features back into her normally composed appearance. Time in which both Hank and Kristoff made their way into the castle. She didn't notice.

"She _talked_ ," she didn't even bother trying to hide the incredulity in her voice. "With _Gerhardt?_ "

"In a fashion," Kai elaborated. "It was princess Anna that told the Marshal to wait outside your office." Elsa raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I think, perhaps, that she might have been so absorbed in her research that she thought it was me. This focus she can show, it truly is quite impressive."

Elsa smiled. "I should know. She's used it on me more than enough." Holding up her to stall any further conversation, Elsa continued. "I will deal with Gerhardt. If you would care to prepare the library, especially on the topics of magic and history—together."

"You and Gerhardt will not be disturbed, majesty. I shall prepare the materials you require in whatever space princess Anna is not currently using."

"Gerhardt?" Hank asked softly, having waited at a respectful distance. Elsa nodded. "Will you be—"

"No. It is a matter of some delicacy—and the fewer people that know, the better."

"Even so, after today…"

"Later, Hank. Later. Right now I think I have just enough composure to deal with this more pressing issue; I don't want to waste it."

"Then good luck." He smiled as Elsa left, then climbed the stairs to his room on the second floor of the castle. The ice harvester followed, his room not much further.

* * *

Gerhardt sat in a high-backed chair of ice that the queen had conjured for him. It was not, he had to admit, anywhere near as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. In front of Queen Elsa was a wide spread of dossiers, both on Arendelle's agents, and on their own particular persons of interest. The marshal had only a small ledger, resting atop his treatise on spies. That it was copied almost verbatim from The Art of War mattered not—at least not after he had explicated the statements for someone of a more… pacifistic nature.

"You are sure of these numbers?" Elsa's voice held a note of disbelief.

"As certain as we can be, moving in the shadows," Gerhardt's reply was calm, not quite condescending. "Weselton's attack; their attempt on your life; and their kidnapping of the royal princess; all of those actions appear to have cost them far more than we first thought. You even have the Duke's protege in the castle dungeons."

Elsa's eyes narrowed, examining one of the recent reports more closely. "The economic implications are… severe."

"Which is precisely why our strike must fall now. It doesn't even have to cause a great deal of damage to their military."

"I would prefer it if the general population of Weaseltown was left alone. They cannot all be as bad as the Duke and the Count."

Gerhardt shrugged dispassionately. "It simply doesn't matter. No matter what course we take in regards to this just retaliation, people will get hurt. If the value of the Mark falls, so does their trading power. You could destroy a nation with only a handful of casualties."

"The same could be said of their plot to assassinate me, you realise."

"Of course," Gerhardt frowned, his fingers steepled. Was she hinting at a more _direct_ solution? "But I do not recall you condoning such a course of action."

"No, I did not," Elsa shook her head slowly. "But the thought _has_ crossed my mind. More than once. I have been forced to consider if it might not have been easier if the Duke never returned…"

"Arrangements could be made…" Gerhardt let the suggestion hang. Let the queen think this was her idea. Meanwhile, a brief distraction. "You read the section about so called 'Doomed Spies'?"

"This would seem a perfect example, yes, I admit," Elsa laid her hands against the edge of the desk, palms up, seeming to study them. "But tell me, Marshal: am I that kind of person? Am I your vengeful queen?"

"No…" there was always more to say, but how best to phrase it? What did she value over everything? Over her kingdom itself? "No, you are not. At least, I would say, under normal circumstances. But these men, this one man—the Duke—sought to _control_ you. To do so by torturing your _sister_. You are not a vengeful queen, but… family is different. I know that you would do anything to protect your sister. I've seen it in your eyes. My men told me of how you tore apart the fort at Løkarna. I knew then that you would always place your family above your kingdom."

Gerhardt saw the subtle glow around Elsa's hands, knew the danger he was in. He also knew how to temper her sudden anger.

"Even Agdarr did, sometimes. Any father would find it hard. Any parent. And for three years you've had to be that for Anna. As best as you could. I don't… I don't blame you for your passion, or your guardianship. We all have someone to protect—" Gerhardt clenched his fist, placing it over his heart. "—but you have more. More than just a sister. More than a family. _You_ are the guardian of an entire kingdom. Never forget that."

"I never have." Ice rippled and changed across the surface of the desk, strange patterns emerging as Elsa moved her hands. "But it's hard."

"If it wasn't, I would be very concerned about your rule."

Elsa snorted in derision. "Enough games. You tear me down one moment, only to prop me up in the next. What do you really want?"

Gerhardt struggled to hide his smile. Sometimes she made it easy, but she was learning—and fast. "I want your permission to deliver that strike."

"How?"

"However you would prefer. You already know which option I would prefer."

"And if you did not have my permission?"

"Then I would likely break your trust by doing it anyway. Weselton understands force, and trade, and very little else. The reason they are so hidebound and reactionary. You know that their so called diplomacy is only a cover for their other actions."

"All too well," Elsa sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "As always, your candour is appreciated, but I have to ask—would you truly go forward with this, even against my express wishes?"

Gerhardt met the queen's eyes, no hint of a lie between them. "This time; yes." The truth could always be a risk—but it could also be its own reward.

Elsa gathered up the dossiers in front of her, suddenly smiling—and not at all a comforting expression. "Your candour; your willingness to admit you would defy me—it is not, perchance, because you already have, is it?"

So much her father's daughter. Gerhardt felt his eyes widen in surprise—that she should, or could, assume that spoke volumes about her judgement of his character. Now, now came the truly hard decision: To admit what he had done, and possibly lose his position and any influence he might have; or to deny everything, play it off as wild speculation, and then later suffer her wrath. No third options. After all, no one had forced him in to doing this. It was all him.

With a heavy sigh, Gerhardt laid his cards on the table. "By now they should be about a day or two from the eastern border—I sent them through Karelia and Rossya. Overland, with a small supply train. Even if I wanted to, there is now no way to change their orders before they reach Weselton. Even our fastest frigate would take at least three days to make the crossing, and perhaps another half a day for the message to get inland."

"When did they start?"

"The 7th."

It look Elsa only a second to do the math. "The day after they kidnapped Anna. You thought you had to act before they thought we could do anything," Elsa frowned, not angry, but seemingly confused, her right hand worrying at the cross beneath her dress. "But why such a long plan?"

"I didn't know if they would have taken her straight back to Weselton. I did know a ship arriving suddenly would either be overly suspicious—or destroyed on the spot. I also didn't know how long you would be… affected… by Anna's disappearance. I saw my chance to act for the good of Arendelle, and I took it."

"Won't your men be disturbed when they find there is no kidnapped princess?"

Gerhardt remained tight-lipped. Better the queen didn't hear about that contingency until afterwards.

"Unless you gave them more than one set of orders," Elsa calmly held her hands out in front of her, her voice suddenly a lot softer. "I don't need to know."

Silence reigned.

"You acted as you thought best, Marshal, on the information you had to hand. Commendable. I dislike that you took the initiative so far, but knowing your methods, I cannot truly fault you for it. I know we think very differently about the defense of Arendelle—and I _am_ angry at you—but I do not expect it to affect our working relationship. You said in the past that you would defend Arendelle at any cost, even if you thought it meant defying me, or because I was wrong. Sometimes I am wrong—we are, after all, only human. But for now, because I know how you value your position on the council and among Arendelle's military, I suggest you do one thing for me."

"What?"

"Leave."

An odd smile, half savage, half playful, quirked the corner of Elsa's mouth. A cat, with a mouse under its paw—that was what it most resembled. Gerhardt pondered the meeting as he left. Given the questions the queen had asked, and that particular smile, he began to wonder if he wasn't the one being manipulated. Elsa had been far too calm—almost as if she'd been expecting something like this, but there was no way she could have known, or even guessed. But it also seemed that she did not entirely disagree that a statement had to be made, and that Weselton needed to understand that statement. That she still held Count Langenberg—the Duke's protege—in the castle dungeon also suggested that she might, in fact, already have the very best tool for sending that message.

She might claim not to be the vengeful queen he wanted, but… he smiled darkly, an echo of his earlier words crossing his lips. Family was different.

* * *

Anna lay on her back, feet propped up against the nearest shelf, dress falling around her in disarray as she tried to make sense of the diagrams in the book she was reading. Flynn Rider was no help either. In all of his adventures he'd never been so seriously hurt as to need that additional support. Well, a few broken bones here and there, and the time he broke his leg traveling the Westlands—but really, nothing serious. She let the book fall in her frustration, forgetting for a moment that it was six inches above her face.

"Ow."

Shuffling around and sitting up, she closed the book properly and replaced it on the shelf. Another dead end. Kai was bustling around not far away, gathering massive tomes for what was apparently Elsa's project. Most of it seemed to be dry, boring, history stuff. Some of it, however, was lavishly illustrated and decorated not just with stamped hide, but gems and gold. Books, she had once been told, that held magic. Or told how to use it. Though somehow she doubted it applied to Elsa's powers, given how badly the coronation ball had gone—and now everything Elsa was learning was through practice, not dry and dusty tomes. And I'm learning it too. Anna smiled at the thought. We're learning about her powers— _together_. Just like we always should have.

Of course, today, getting Elsa to practice might be harder than usual. It might even prove impossible. Anna shivered, leaning back against the shelf. Elsa had just forced herself to watch six people die. Something she had even admitted to having nightmares about. Probably something she wouldn't want to talk about either. But all the books Kai was laying on that table… well, something _else_ had to have happened. Something magical. Anna frowned, wandering over as Kai unrolled a familiar seeming scroll.

"Hey, Kai, is that my map?"

"Property of the kingdom, your highness."

"You know what I meant," Anna pored over the map. "It is, isn't it? Why?"

"Queen Elsa asked me to collect everything we currently hold on the history of magic."

"And that map?"

"Well, as I recall, it was powerful enough for you two to worry an entire kingdom over…"

Anna felt her cheeks glowing in embarrassment. Thing was, Kai was not wrong. But that was also— _Ismakt_ —the odd sound of the word as it left Elsa's lips. The hint of fear and worry, and the sudden hope for kinship. All carved into the standing stones outside their cave. So did that mean…?

"Helping Kai there?" Anna turned at Elsa's voice, hearing just how drained her sister must have felt, and the front she was putting up to cover it.

"Helping you," Anna smiled, holding up the map, Kai bowing out as she continued. "I think I know exactly what you're looking for."

Elsa smiled ruefully. "And here I thought this would take my mind off things for the whole afternoon."

"Nope," Smiling brightly, Anna draped herself across her sister. "You get to play with me all afternoon instead."

"I don't think I'd be much fun."

"That's alright, we both know I'm enough fun for three people."

"Oh, it's three people now?"

"Well, seeing as Hank has no sense of fun, I've gotta fill in for him too."

Elsa couldn't help but laugh at that. Anna smiled again, much softer this time.

"And I'd fill in for Kristoff too, but he's actually really fun when it's just me… and him…" Anna finished with a sigh, knowing that her boyfriend would be leaving for the mountains soon—but after the harvest festival, of course. It was actually quite some time until he had to leave, but that didn't mean the idea hurt any less. Anna felt a hand gently caressing her shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" Elsa's hand pulled her a little closer. "You just trailed off there."

"I hate that he has to go, you know? I mean I get it, and it's probably really good that he works that hard, but I just want him here. He's helped me so much—I mean not that you haven't, you've helped lots and lots—and anyway he helps me differently and I really shouldn't tell you, you prude, but if I did it'd be so funny and oh, yeah, I want him to stay. For me. Mostly. I mean I guess it's kinda nice for you to have someone to talk about ice stuff to, but I mean he's boyfriend so of course I want him more. Yeah, mostly for me. Okay, only me."

Elsa laughed softly. "Do you think next time you could breathe so other people could follow you?"

Anna laughed, not bothering to reply.

"I also don't think you should be here all afternoon," Elsa smiled deviously. "Aren't you supposed to train with Hank?"

"Umm…"

"Well, we both know where he lives." And Elsa stuck out her tongue in a most un-queenly manner.

"I can still help, until then."

"Okay then. You said you already figured it all out?"

Anna nodded, taking a deep breath before laying out everything in a high-speed delivery that matched the pace of a cannonball fired out a window. Hand on her hip and with an exasperated look on her face she took another breath, repeating everything at a rather reduced pace. Everything that actually made sense, anyway. Elsa's questions were also fairly easy to answer.

"Sometimes I have to wonder—" Elsa smiled warmly as she spoke "—if you're this brilliant in spite of being scatterbrained, or _because_ of it."

Laughing, Anna shook her head. "I don't know myself, and I'm not sure I care. It's me, and _I_ like me."

"I like you to. Even… oh, I get it now."

Anna cocked her head, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her sister's sudden change in tone.

"Even if you weren't my sister, I'd still love you."

"Err… Elsa?"

"You asked me the other day if you being my sister made any difference to how I loved you. You're my sister, and I'm _expected_ to love you anyway. No matter what I really feel. Even if you were a terrible person, people would still expect us to love each other. But I figured it out—it doesn't matter whether or not you're my sister. I love you for _being_ you."

Finally. Anna smiled, thankful that now Elsa could understand that key difference. Of course, it might help to see how far that extended. "Do you love me enough to try practicing your magic for a while?"

"I—That's not fair, and you know it."

"It's okay. I just thought with all this magic stuff _here_ and everything…"

Elsa buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. "And of course it looks like that… I'm an idiot."

"Yup."

"Hey! You're meant to disagree with me."

"But aren't you always right?" Anna stuck out her tongue, shrieking in delight when Elsa chased her halfway across the library, her chair leaving twin trails of ice around every corner.

Sitting on the floor, her back against Elsa's, Anna smiled, wishing the moment would last forever. Long enough for both of them to be happy in their own way. Anna could feel her sister's heavy sigh, and the subtle shift as she worried at the cross beneath her dress. Even the best moments had to end.

"Do you wanna talk about?"

She felt it as Elsa shook her head—perhaps not trusting herself to speak.

"Later?"

There was no reply, save for a gentle whisper of an icy wind.

"Later then. You'll be okay if I run off with Hank now?"

Another shake of Elsa's head. Anna sighed softly.

"I guess today was harder than either of us thought it would be."

"It was impossible." Elsa's voice was scarcely a whisper.

"Then I guess you're not here, in the library, sitting up against your favourite sister."

"Am I?"

The words sent a chill down Anna's spine. It wasn't that Elsa could even ask that, it was how unsure she'd sounded—as if she really wasn't sure if she was there anymore. Turning, Anna pulled her sister into the tightest hug she could manage, her chest against Elsa's back, and her lips against platinum hair. Elsa didn't move. Couldn't move. Anna whispered softly in her ear.

"I'm here. I'll still be here when you find yourself again."

Elsa pulled Anna's arm tighter around her. Anna smiled sadly in the afternoon sun. Clouds drifted in the sky outside the windows, but she couldn't say how long they just sat there. The sun was past the castle walls, and the library slowly fell into shadow, the lamps around the walls unlit in the fading twilight. The moon began to rise, and the first stars shone. An icy draught teased strands of auburn and silver. In their quiet slumber both of them smiled, their fears and worries far apart as long as they were together.


	82. Adrift on the Wind

The guard tower was darkening in the twilight, most of the light now coming from braziers on the wall rather than gaslamps like the rest of the castle. Three of the palace guards stood resolute, weapons drawn. Hank faced off against them, glad they were using training weapons. He wanted to test his ability as a swordsman—given that he could no longer challenge Ingvarr at marksmanship; and he felt the need to measure up to some kind of challenge. There was also the fact princess Anna hadn't been outside the castle proper since early in the afternoon. Their sparring matches were scheduled for a Wednesday, and though she was said to be scatterbrained, he doubted she would forget this particular appointment.

She had, after all, seemed to enjoy hitting him with things. And judging by the previous match against the palace guards, she wasn't the only one to enjoy hitting him with long pointy things. One guard rushed and feinted while the other two began to flank. Hank met the feint with a cross-guard and attempted to bind the first guard's weapon, but the man in the Arendelle green wasn't that easily taken. Dropping his guard, Hank stepped back, the point of his blade towards the first of the palace guard while his arms stretched towards the two trying to flank him. Now that he could see what as going on a little better, he took two quick steps to his left, and once again the palace guards were in a rough line in front of him.

This time the closer two attacked, high and low. Switching to a half-sword grip Hank caught the lower blade and flicked it out, slamming the base of his blade against the higher attack an instant later. In that time the third guard—the first to rush him—had managed to slip out of sight. Hank lashed out with a blind pommel thrust behind and to his right, and was rewarded with a meaty thwack. That guard staggered back, but it still left the two to his front.

Still holding at half-sword, a tip thrust caught one of the other guards from below. The final guard employed a brute force approach, his greater weight slamming Hank to the ground as they collided. Hank let his weapon fall to the ground. The guards helped him up.

"You're improving, Erikson."

"Maybe you'd be a better duellist. Kai has hidden depths there."

"Still, you can hold your own—for a while, at least."

"I'm just not sure it's enough."

"That's good," the largest of the palace guards clapped him on the back. "You can always improve. Another ten years maybe, and you'll be as good as us."

"I wouldn't be that far from forty."

"Captain Ragnar, may Odin favour him, was closer to fifty than you would have known," the guard smiled. "Not a man among us could best him in a duel, even two- or three-on-one. He fought and died bravely, and may it please the queen to one day acknowledge that."

Hank frowned. Surely Elsa would have recognised Captain Ragnar for his courage already. The palace guards noted his frown.

"Formally, captain Erikson. Princess Anna came to thank us not so long ago."

"Anna came to you?"

There was a general murmur of assent, but no further explanation. Hank sighed. He still hadn't managed to bond with these men as well as he had with his company in the Royal Marines. There was something missing in the common thread of soldiery and protection that should have bound them.

"Another round then?" Hank looked them over, they all seemed eager enough.

"We'll make it harder this time. Two-on-two, but your second is unable to fight."

"When pressed, Queen Elsa is more than capable of fighting."

"But when knocked senseless, or drained by some poison, or still bound by her captors—no, this gives you more of a challenge. If you can fight better here, it will be even easier when the queen is able to fight by your side."

Hank stood ready, the shortest of the guards moving to sit cross-legged behind him. Hank was suddenly aware that even that simple act was something Elsa couldn't do unsupported. The first attack came not for him, but his charge, a rapid, questing thrust turned aside by a pommel strike. The second attack was a feint, opening his guard to allow the first attacker inside. Hank exploited the momentum of his half-turn and yanked the closing guard around by the arm, throwing him towards his companion, opening both of their guards. A punch from his free hand—barely pulled in time—set the closer of the guards reeling to his left, while the tip of his blade just brushed against the chest of the larger man to his right.

The reeling guard recovered himself, throwing his cap at Hank's face. Hank met it with an unconventional headbutt, followed with a half-turn and reverse thrust that came up through his attacker's suddenly opened guard. The guard standing in for his charge smiled up at him.

"Not bad, captain Erikson. Völund's hat trick can really catch out the unwary."

"There's a lot worse than hats flying at Royal Marine fusiliers," Hank winked at the man on the ground, turning to bow at the other two.

"You fight much better when protecting another, captain."

"I do?" He couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"Ragnar was the same. That was why king Agdarr appointed him captain of the palace guard."

"A legend in his time, that man."

"A worthy captain for us all. Please, if you have the ear of the queen."

Hank gave a slight bow. "I will do what I can. Captain Ragnar should have a name; both here, and in Valhalla."

"Aye." The palace guards chorused agreement.

For the first time he could remember, the senior lieutenant—Völund—bowed to him. Hank reached out to shake his hand and was met with a firm grip. He turned to leave, the lights going out behind him. It was night outside, and the air was chill. In the high windows of the library he could see the wan glow of a fire. His thoughts turned to his liege. She must be studying. I hope she can find what she was looking for.

* * *

Hus av Strykejern was rowdier than usual that night. Vanja Ostberg-Lang smiled, rolling her shoulders. After the execution many of the townsfolk had come there to celebrate the deaths of the traitors. Søren was there too, but he was hardly celebrating. He wasn't sitting anywhere near Vanja, either. In fact, he wasn't sitting near _anyone_. Everyone in the tavern knew who he was. Everyone knew what he was going through—but it still seemed more than just giving a grieving man space. With a huff of frustration Vanja stood slowly, stretched, and walked over to sit opposite Søren. He didn't even look up.

Vanja called Frida over and ordered two more drinks, sliding the coin across the table. Frida left a little too quickly, seeming to avoid Søren. He didn't seem to notice. Vanja did. When Frida returned with their drinks she slid both over from Vanja's side of the table. Søren finally moved when he saw the new drink in front of him. Vanja held out her stein, looking the head guildsman in the eye. He held his stein higher, but his eyes betrayed how he really felt. Vanja turned away. Everyone else seemed to have moved even further back. Just what the hell was going on?

She looked Søren in the eye. "To family." It seemed like the right thing to say.

Søren drained his stein in a single draught, then stared at the table some more. Vanja stared into the distance, at the night outside the high windows. What could she say now? Would he even believe her? Did he even _deserve_ to know? No. No one else had to know what she'd really lost. No one else could understand. No one else had tried to. Even Gerhardt. The marshal simply _couldn't_ understand—and he had said as much. At least he was honest about it.

The other townsfolk in the tavern suddenly seemed a lot closer. They were. She could feel the sudden tension in the air, and a savage grin crossed her lips. Her blood was up, and now she _wanted_ a fight. All she needed was an exc—and what did that bastard just say about Søren? Vanja's fist had connected before she realised how close she was; close enough to hear the crack as that man's nose broke. It was satisfying. Another punch, low, into the stomach of the man closing to try and grapple with her. Her third blow missed, falling well short, and suddenly everyone was standing back again. Only then did she notice that her arm had stopped moving. It was pinned to her side by massively strong hands. She turned, her hair catching against something slightly scratchy, and she saw red in the corner of her eye. Søren slowly lowered her to the ground.

"I'm not worth it."

"Not tonight, no." Vanja agreed. Then she turned and floored him with a single punch. It helped that he was drunk. It was probably for the best—better than what might happen otherwise. She looked around the tavern; no one willing to meet her gaze. "Stop looking at me like I just kicked your dog—or did one of you lot want that first crack."

There was a round of uneasy muttering and mumbling in the crowd. Vanja looked at Søren's body, laid out on the floor. It was going to be a bitch to drag him even as far as his workshop. She turned back to the crowd. "At least one of you idiots will have to help me—or do you think I can carry him alone?"

"Why not just leave him there?"

"He deserved it."

"If you didn't, I would've."

"You got some cheek there."

"Why help him? His son's a traitor."

"They're not wrong."

Vanja turned, slowly coming face to face with the last person to speak. A voice she had dreaded hearing. "Frida?"

"Konrad was a traitor. And you know they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Søren wasn't—"

"He was a good father," someone else spoke. "Raised his son well. Well enough."

"Yeah. Konrad wouldn't do that on his own."

"He's not—"

"He runs the damn guilds, woman; he could run Arendelle easily enough."

"Never. He loved h—"

"His son. More than the Queen. You didn't hear him after Konrad was sentenced. You saw he changed the name of his workshop too."

Vanja exploded, hands balled into fists. "Shut up! All of you!"

"We don—"

"Shut. Up." Vanja's voice ground out through gritted teeth. She was face to face with a middle-aged farmer. "One more word against Søren and I will personally lay out every last man and woman in this tavern who spoke against him."

"I'd like to see you tr—" The farmer was just asking for trouble.

Vanja shrugged. It took four solid blows knock him out, but in that time someone else managed to slam a fist into her stomach hard enough to wind her. As she spun around and kicked out at that assailant, another man tried to cosh her from behind. She caught that arm, then turned the small club on her initial assailant. He hit the floor with a heavy thud. Frida was trying to ambush her with a serving tray, and Vanja almost felt sorry for likely breaking the server's nose. Another trio closed to try and deal with her, and as Vanja faced off against them a boot struck her square in the side of the head. She dropped without another sound.

Some time had passed. It was colder, considerably, than when she had entered Hus av Strykejern. Vanja shook her head, immediately regretting the motion, swallowing bile. A combination of drink and the blow to her head. She patted herself down quickly, searching for any injuries she might not be feeling. Nothing. Some blood matting her hair on one side, and a nasty scrape where the boot had hit her head, but nothing beyond that. There was blood on the cobbles—and more than her own injuries would account for. She traced the blood back to its source.

"Søren!" She scrambled over, attempting to rouse him. He grumbled, turning away from her. She couldn't see where blood had come from. She tried standing, stumbled, then crawled on all fours to roll Søren back towards her. She had to find the injury. She patted down his chest and stomach as she rolled him, feeling for blood or cuts in the fabric of his shirt. Nothing. His face. He had a broken nose, and a nasty cut across his forehead. The arm he had lain on was also bleeding; Vanja found a stab wound in his bicep. Ripping at his shirt, she tore the lower edge into strips for bandaging his head and arm. He was still out cold—which meant she wouldn't be able to move him without help.

Looking back at the tavern, Vanja quickly decided she didn't want any help from the people left in there. If only Arendelle had stagecoaches. But no, the town itself was small enough to never have needed them. Vanja sighed, searching her surrounds for—and there it was, a simple cart for hauling sacks of flour and grain. Getting Søren onto the cart required some significant effort, but she managed, and then, finally managing to stand without feeling like throwing up, she turned to take Søren to his workshop.

Where everyone would be looking for him.

Only one, unappealing, but necessary, option presented itself. Wearing a brooding scowl the entire trek, Vanja began the walk home. When she finally made it there, rather late in the night, she made sure to move the cart to another house, at least a few streets back inside the town itself. She only hoped she hadn't left a trail of blood for everyone to follow. Then she closed the door with a heavy slam—Søren mumbling something in his sleep—and rammed the bolts home. No one else could get in without some kind of cannon. As she finally staggered to bed, throwing off dirty clothes and sweaty armour, she couldn't remember a harder, stranger night in all her life.

* * *

The forest soared overhead, ancient and primeval. A chill wind rustled the leaves of the evergreens and rattled the branches of the other trees. There was a menacing aspect to the winter, and though she felt it, Elsa couldn't say _why_ she felt that way. There was a threat, to her, or to Arendelle, somewhere in the forest. Something powerful and uncaring. The sun suddenly rose past dawn, and the shadows shortened so quickly it almost made her head spin. Something wasn't right. The fact she was walking barefoot through the snow should have been the first clue.

Another sudden change, and it felt as if she was the smallest part of some enormous machine, the air spiralling around her, trying to push her to and fro. She fought back, a wind of her own coming unbidden to her aid. Silence fell across the dream—for it had to be a dream, she reasoned, if she could walk, and if the sun and place could change so suddenly. And then from winter the forest fell to autumn, golden leaves floating back to their trees a thousand times over. That was when the voice began, calling her name. Saying _seidr_. Trying, she could feel, to make her understand something vitally important. A third word she recognized drifted to her ears. _Ismakt_. Magic of ice.

Was this her _magic_ reaching out to her?

She was hesitant at first, keeping her powers tightly controlled. She let out a quiet breath—even in her dreams, she knew her powers could be dangerous. She'd seen evidence in the past. It was hard to let go of that control. Hard to let her guard down, even for a moment, but she did; slowly, tentatively, ever watchful. She felt the spark—jolt, almost—as her magic touched something ancient and terrifyingly strong. The _other_ pushed back.

Elsa woke with a start, struggling against something before falling sideways. She could still feel the lingering touch of the _other_ with her magic. The feeling raised the hairs on the back of her neck and covered her arms in goosebumps. She shivered. It wasn't just a dream. It took time to calm her fevered mind, but when she had, she finally noticed she was still in the library, and that her sister was snoring like a walrus.

She felt it as her magic reached out of its own accord—and not entirely of her own volition. There was no ice, no snow or frost, no chill in the air. She was curious as well as to what was happening, all thoughts of the day's events now far from her mind. Further and further her magic reached, and though she could not say how far it was from her, she _felt_ it as something _else_ reached back. Her breath shallow, she tried in vain to focus her magic towards the other, to make that contact, but it fell short.

Her breath steady and slow, her mind focused solely on the task at hand, Elsa reached out for what felt like hours. Every time she felt a tentative push back, but nothing more. It was at once tantalisingly close and frustratingly distant. With a surprising reluctance she drew her magic inward, knowing that she simply could not reach this _other_. At least, not now. Still leaning against her sister—and despite the snoring from that direction—she began to doze, drifting into a fitful sleep as something tugged at the very edge of her consciousness.

In an ancient forest Elsa stood, staring in wonder at the spring and the trees. The trees towered overhead, but seemed to draw away rather than close in as the snow hung heavy in the air. Elsa blinked, turning slowly, realising that she _knew_ what caused this. No wind to rustle the trees, and the air crisp and sharp as the heart of winter. Except the cause of this was not her magic—a magic that when she moved set the snowflakes drifting slowly to the powder covering the ground.

Stepping forward, Elsa strode from the trees and into the spring, a tiny circle of green moss and blue slate within a world of white. Steam wafted high into the air, and at the far end of the clearing knelt a woman with platinum hair bound in a warrior's braid. Elsa crept closer, afraid of breaking the moment, keeping her magic tightly reined. She could only just make out the woman's voice—speaking a language she didn't know—and which now sounded somehow familiar.

Perhaps it was because the woman was whispering.

Perhaps it was because she spoke an ancient oath.

Or perhaps it was because she was in pain.

A little closer, moving around to her right, Elsa could see everything. The tension in the other woman's body, the way her clenched fist drove into the ground, her shallow, determined breaths. Tiny spots of dampness marked the rock beneath the woman. She looked up, at a single _bautasten_ set in front of her. She stood slowly, a great force gathering behind her movements, wind suddenly whipping her platinum hair around her face.

She screamed. A sound filled rage and pain and impotence. The world exploded in blinding white, and suddenly Elsa was awake, shivering in a cold sweat, cheeks damp with tears. Anna was looking down at her, braids falling around her face.

"You were talking in your sleep."

"You were snoring." She had replied before realising what a non-sequitur it was.

Anna cocked her head, fixing Elsa with a piercing gaze. "You weren't speaking Norwegian. Or Finnish. Or German—or any of the languages we know."

"I—what?"

"You weren't just mumbling either, in case you think—well, anyway, it wasn't Norwegian, and I know all the languages you know, unless… no, that's just silly."

"What is, Anna?"

"Your magic isn't a language is it?"

"No," Elsa shook her head, not entirely sure that that was the truth. "At least, I don't think it could be."

"Okay…" Anna sat beside her, helping her into a sitting position against the bookshelf next to them. "And what about… well… I guess it's yesterday now?"

"I…" Elsa looked down as she trailed off. What could she say, when even she didn't know what she was feeling? She felt a hand twine fingers with hers.

 "We'll figure it out. Together."


	83. Sacred Bonds

Søren swam slowly towards consciousness; something somehow painfully distant. He sat up, immediately regretting the action, and fell sideways—instantly regretting that as he landed on his injured arm. Not a lot was coming back to him. He'd been drunk—not passing out drunk, maybe, but still very drunk. He could remember stopping Vanja getting into a fight, and then getting slugged by her a moment later. Something about people trying to hurt her, and then he'd fought back. A knife was involved somewhere—which explained the injury on his arm—but that was all he had. How he wasn't lying on the cobbles in front of Hus av Strykejern he didn't know.

Nor did he have any way of telling in whose house he had just slept. On the floor. In what, from the smell of it, appeared to be the kitchen. He tried valiantly to pry himself from the floor, but the world refused to stop spinning. Probably from all the drink. Or from getting punched by Vanja. Lying on the floor, his vision still blurred, he was barely able to make out a pair of bare feet standing against the floor, and the sound of frying somewhere high in the sky above. Over the feet, just barely covering her ankles—no man could be that slim—were trousers; not a dress. He heard the scraping of a wooden chair against the stone floor, and on the highest peak he could hear someone sitting, drinking, and enjoying a meal of fried fish.

Managing to turn slightly, looking up at an angle that didn't make his head spin, Søren was incredibly surprised to see his saviour. Vanja. But she was a completely different person; no furs, no armour. Just a simple blouse, and straight trousers. Her hair was a mess, blood matting it around her temple, and even as she ate she worked, broadsheet and sheaves of paper spread out before her. Several massive tomes were opened at the far end of the table. From below Søren could just make out that at least one volume was a complete almanac. It was a side of Vanja he knew no one else would ever see.

"Here." A hand came down towards him, bearing a mug with something sloshing inside. He sniffed at it, but could only smell Vanja's cooking. "It's water."

Søren took the mug, trying to force himself into a sitting position. It worked, to a fashion, his back against the leg of the table, and dangerously close to his saviour. He was grateful for the drink, sipping it carefully, buying time as he tried to figure out what to say.

"You're welcome," Vanja's voice was soft. "You may want a new shirt. Sorry."

That was a given, with the blood covering his arm; but why had there been that twinge of regret in her voice? And why was his back cold. He felt his stomach with his free hand, and was surprised to feel his bare flesh. His still blurry vision swam to the bandage on his right arm. It looked exactly like the rest of his shirt… like the rest of his shirt. Something else hung softly against his shoulder, and after putting the mug down, he pulled gently at the bandage around his head. His hand toyed idly with the torn edge of his shirt, his mind piecing together just who had bandaged him, and with what. And also that it was very unlikely Vanja would have anything remotely close to fitting his frame.

"I…" Søren coughed, only half-faking it to buy time. Where could he start? She had quite possibly saved his life.

"Don't bother." That was the Vanja he knew. The coldness was somehow reassuring. "We'll be heading to the barracks first."

"The barracks?"

"I have business with Gerhardt. You're coming too. People can think whatever the hell they want. For all I care they can think we slept together—or that I'm handing a traitor to the marshal. You look bad enough anyway." Søren was inclined to believe her, given his now readily apparent injuries. He was going to need a salve to numb the pain, and a tincture of some kind to clear his head. Assuming any doctor in the town didn't simply poison him instead. He hated the thought, but the townsfolk had shown their true colours the previous night—the same way they'd shown them on the docks, by all accounts.

Vanja rose from the table, her footsteps rapidly fading. She returned with a hand-mirror and a slight limp, wincing as she bent over. "Do what you can. I'm getting dressed." Søren was about to protest that she was _already_ dressed, but his brain was finally starting to work because it _knew_ this was not Vanja's normal attire. She was donning her armour, and her customary furs. Søren wondered what she would do about her hair. Her voice, stern and strong, echoed from the other room.

"You can sit there feeling sorry for yourself, or you can gather up those papers on the table—the ones about the harbour and the fleets."

Søren groaned, using the table to help drag himself into a standing position. He had to do _something_. At least the loose pages were easy to identify. He shoved them into the front of what appeared to be a book about a Nelson, or written by somebody Nelson—the first name was worn from the spine through heavy use. Vanja emerged from the other room, clad in fur and armour as always, her hair hanging free, divided carefully over her shoulders. She'd cleaned away most of the blood, and the way her hair was hanging masked the injury well enough.

Green eyes shone with an inner fire as she saw the papers jammed into the book. She took them without a word, squaring and smoothing them, patting the cover of the book with a surprising tenderness. "Appropriate, I would say," Vanja bundled the book under her arm as she spoke, nodding towards the door. "Let's go."

* * *

With a sound that was a cross between a snore and a cough princess Anna awoke to find herself _still_ in the library. Elsa was trying to steal away barefoot through the door. Anna knew she could stop her sister with a single word; knew that that was why she couldn't look back. She frowned. Something was not right about that image. Ah, of course, Elsa's chair. That was when she blinked and woke in the dawn light, her sister's hair tickling her lips. She blew it softly aside, snuggling against the very warm person right next to her.

When, exactly, they'd been provided with a blanket she couldn't tell. Probably Gerda, though, she surmised. The fire was also nothing but embers in the hearth. Books lay scattered in the shadows on the desk in the corner. In front of the fire lay a table that normally bore a chess set. Anna suddenly smiled—and though she hated mornings, she now had a _plan_. She laughed softly, remembering how the servants had always shivered in mock horror when she'd said that in the past. Well, mostly because her plans had been terrible, but also because she'd so rarely actually had one before attempting some new challenge, Elsa-related or not.

She didn't want to move; not only for fear of waking Elsa, but because she really would have enjoyed at least another few hours of sleep. She shrugged, she could always take a nap after lunch. Moving slowly, Anna extricated herself from the blanket, and her hair from her sister's. How Elsa's hair stayed so manageable overnight she couldn't say, but it always made her a little jealous. She leant down and kissed her sister on the forehead, carefully rearranging the blanket as she did so.

Elsa stirred, eyes slowly opening, a gentle smile slowly fading from her face.

"I didn't want to wake you," Anna apologised.

"Wake me?" Elsa's voice was slightly husky with the morning. "What are _you_ doing awake before noon?"

"Umm…" Anna did her best to appear nonchalant, failing completely.

"You want me to do something, don't you?" Was she really that transparent? "With my magic."

"Or we could talk about yesterday." It was risky, but she knew how badly it was bothering her sister. It was something they needed to talk about, no matter how uncomfortable it made Elsa.

Elsa was not having a bar of it. "I could just pretend to fall asleep again."

And now she was just being petulant. Anna crossed her arms—arm, forgetting it didn't work so well with only one—and gave her sister a stern look. Elsa looked away, worrying at the crucifix around her neck. Anna dropped the act, sitting with her back against Elsa's. Maybe it would be easier for them to talk this way. It wasn't—Anna could feel her sister shuffling around, and maybe moving her hands as she started and stopped, trying not to talk.

"I'm still your sister, no matter what," Anna nudged her sister in the ribs. "Plus, it can't be half as bad as killing me."

The shocked gasp told her everything.

"You've cried enough about that one, and I've forgiven you; even if you say you can't forgive yourself, you great big stinker. I know it must be hard. I know what it's like not to have any words—any voice at all. I'm here for you, when you're ready."

Anna said nothing as she felt Elsa's shoulders heave; felt the silent sobbing against her back. She just let the moment be, the shadows of the rising sun slowly shortening as the morning continued to dawn. Time passed, and with a slight chill in the air she grabbed the blanket from last night, draping it around the both of them.

Elsa's voice was small and distant. "Thank you."

"I know you." Anna kept her voice just above a whisper. "I know when you're hurting." There was a pause, and dangerous edge crept into her voice. "I also know when you're punishing yourself for something."

"I hate you."

"Oh, and I also know when you're lying," Anna smirked, pressing her back against her sister. They toppled sideways as she pressed a little too hard. "…and I still forget things sometimes."

Elsa was silent, unmoving. Anna turned, helping her sister up, ignoring half-hearted protests and thinly veiled threats about missing chocolates. They were sitting face to face now, looking down, their foreheads pressed together. Anna took a deep breath, exhaling softly. She felt Elsa's breath tickle her lips and tease stray hairs into odd places. Her breath was starting to fog, and there was a growing chill in the air. Elsa's breath was coming in ragged gasps, and her body began to shake. Snow was already hanging in the air.

"I'm right here."

Elsa sniffed. "You shouldn't be. Not after…"

Anna smiled, pulling her sister into a tight embrace. "I keep telling you: If I didn't think you were worth it, would I really stay?"

"But I—I watc… after and… I watched and…"

Anna felt her stomach sink somewhere past the south pole. It had everything to do with the execution—and the fact she simply could not be there to help her sister. The toll it had taken on Elsa… Anna hadn't seen her this scared since—she tried to think of a time when she'd seen Elsa actually scared. Only one came to mind. And the aftermath. And maybe it was the ultimate in foolishness, but she refused to leave Elsa's side.

"I'm sorry," Anna tried to find the right words, but she wasn't even sure what she was apologising _for_. "I'm so sorry, Elsa. Please, just let me _help_."

"I… I…" Elsa took a shaky breath, her voice suddenly hoarse. "I couldn't… feel…" She shook her head, her hair whipping around it was so sudden. "I watched… and he… kicking. Struggling. And… and… nothing."

The sinking feeling in Anna's stomach was suddenly matched by one in her heart. There was no good ending to this story. No twist worthy of Flynn Rider. This was life, and sometimes, it seemed, it was just horrible. She felt Elsa's chin resting on her shoulder, slender arms hugging her tight. Platinum hair brushed against her cheeks and tangled with her own fiery locks. Anna looked around, paralysed. There had to be _something_ she could do. But Elsa wasn't finished.

"I… I watched. And I didn't feel… I didn't feel…"

Rime ice began to creep up the walls. Fractal plates spidered and branched across the floor. A sudden gust stirred the embers in the fire. Snowflakes hung suspended in the chill morning air. Everything seemed to wait with bated breath. The world shrunk, from a globe, to Arendelle; from Arendelle, to the castle; from the castle, to Elsa. From Elsa, to… nothingness. A split second passed. An instant of the most absolute, utterly terrifying calm she had ever known. She held on tight to her sister.

"…I didn't feel…" Elsa's voice lowered in pitch as it raised in volume. "I watched—and I didn't feel _anything!_ "

Anna groaned in pain, shivering, staring up at the ice covering the ceiling. It took several long seconds before she understood what was going on. Pages and various sheets of paper fluttered down slowly from somewhere on high. She was flat on her back, but there should have been things much taller than her around the room. She could hear the wind from outside, and an odd, sharp kind of tinkling. Her back hurt like hell. It felt like she was freezing. There was a pounding in her head that made thinking difficult. But there was also something _missing_. She sat bolt upright, instantly regretting it, nearly throwing up from the sudden pain.

"Elsa!" The library was destroyed. Icy shards had hit the shelves like a barrage of grapeshot.

A terrifying silence was her only reply. She drew in a deep breath, the chill air freezing her to the core. Rising panic threatened to overwhelm her.

"Elsa!"

She heard a whimper coming from under a pile of books and splintered wood. It had to be. She couldn't be imagining it. It had to be Elsa. Everything hurt when she moved, but she managed at least to crawl to the pile of debris. She sat awkwardly, ripping into the pile, casting everything aside. Elsa was buried in there somewhere. Something fell with a great crash behind her. Finding Elsa was more important. A flash of platinum hair. Pale skin—an arm. A black dress. When she finally looked up, the debris clear, her concern was not for herself, but for Anna. A hand reached out to cradle her sister's head.

"You're hurt."

"Yeah, it kinda stings," Anna shrugged, continuing to turf items from the pile over her shoulder. Elsa's hand came away streaked with red. Anna blinked, then placed her hand to the side of her head. "Okay, maybe I should get a bandage or something—but I won't just leave you here."

"Yo—"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm going to hit you."

Elsa looked away. Anna placed her hand under her sister's shoulder, and braced her feet against the carpet. She didn't even bother with a countdown. Elsa came free with a soft rumbling of falling books and splintered wood. Then she saw the title of the book the had fallen next to her sister—still miraculously intact. Anna laughed, and Elsa just looked at her. It seemed Flynn Rider really _could_ survive anything.

"Elsa?" Anna kept her voice low. "Do you think you can make a chair? Or should I find Hank?"

It was at that point that Anna decided the sudden indecision on her sister's face was rather endearing. The fear, not so much, but certainly that flustered indecision. And it would probably have been a bad idea to point it ou—oops.

"I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Elsa tried to smile. Anna's head still hurt—and her back felt even worse. She groaned, tottering on her feet, her one arm out to steady herself. She sighed, dropping to one knee. Maybe she would take a moment to properly regain her composure first—and a little more energy—before trying to move. She heard a heavy sigh from Elsa. A subtle sound, a whisper on a distant wind, and suddenly her sister was supported by a simple wheelchair of ice—though not the one she normally conjured.

"It's… different."

"It is," Elsa conceded. "I don't feel… right. Simple magic only."

"In that case…" Anna smiled mischievously at her sister. "Can you freeze this little cut right here?" And Anna tapped the side of her head.

"I…"

"Or would you rather kiss it better?"

"Would I rath—wait, what?!"

"I refuse to be scared of you, Elsa; or your powers; or your special love for me. I refuse to let anything break us apart. And I point blank refuse to let you beat yourself up about every little thing that might or might not be your fault. I'll still be here for you, no matter what. Oh, okay, I might take holidays with Kristoff every now and then, but I'm pretty sure you would not want to join us—or maybe you—anyway, I'm saying I'm here for you, and I want you to really understand that. I want you to know that I'm not going away. That you don't have to be scared. That even if i sometimes get a little bit hurt by your magic—or our experiments—I don't blame you. You just need a little more practice. At everything really.

"I mean, we've probably only just scratched the surface of what your magic can do, and there are so many possibilities. You're good queen, but you've only been doing this for like two months, so I mean _of course_ there are gonna be some hiccups. You were kind of a lousy sister, but I forgive you for that. It's not like you were the only one at fault anyway. You missed so much growing up. And Hank is courting you—ha, look at you blush; I know it's not that warm in here—or maybe you're courting him, because of that stick up his—okay, okay. The point is, you're still learning there too. You might be a wife someday. Just another thing to learn. But you know what I found?"

Elsa just crossed her arms, staring at Anna.

"Fine. I _like_ learning. All those afternoons I've mysteriously disappeared on you; and those odd times around the day when I'm hard to find? Library. Because I want to _help_. You. But to do that I need understand more than just what you think like—and that your secret chocolate stash is actually hidden by a false bottom in the seco—what? Don't give me that look. I thought it fair after you found mine. I was—where was I? Right, understanding—but do you know how little we actually know about how our bodies work? Yeah, it's really frustrating, so I thought about maybe studying armour, because it's kinda weird, but those suits pretty much support themselves if you hang them right, so I was thinking maybe something for your legs but I'm getting ahead of myself. I like learning, because… well guess I like knowing all these weird little facts. Kind of like Flynn Rider, really."

"And the swordfighting with Hank?"

"If anyone tries to kidnap me again, I would very much like to be able to fight my way out. I did nearly escape twice the first time."

"There's shouldn't have been a first time."

Anna knew exactly where that line of reasoning would take her sister. "Agreed. Let's move on. I'm not sure, but I think I might still be bleeding a little. Oh, and my back is killing me."

"I'm sure doctor Arnesen has something you could use."

"Well, I guess it's okay for you to _not_ use your magic to play doctor," Anna smirked as she started wheeling Elsa's chair from the library. Her back still hurt. "But just because I'm okay with it—and I've forgiven you for hurting me—doesn't mean I can't get my own back later."

"What?"

"Yeah, maybe it's petty. Or maybe you're actually good at giving foot rubs but I don't want to encourage you too much. Or maybe I'm thinking about how you're slowly remodelling the castle, room by room."

"I'm wha… Anna!" Anna could only laugh as the penny finally dropped for her sister.


	84. Skeins of History

Elsa sat patiently in doctor Arnesen's office within the castle. Anna sat on the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as the doctor wrapped a roll of cloth bandage around her temples. She was also smiling at Elsa, a fact Elsa was pointedly trying to ignore. Just how could Anna still be so… sanguine. So optimistic. Despite everything. Despite being hurt so often—even if, as she said, it was usually accidental. Elsa sighed heavily. She knew exactly why.

"…and then," Anna continued to smile. " _You_ are going to have a nice calming cup of tea, and _I_ am going to sleep 'til noon. Well, I'll keep you company while you have your tea of course."

"I—" Elsa saw the threatening look on her sister's face. "Thank you. I appreciate the gesture."

"See, it's not so hard." And Anna's smile might have been the most infuriating thing in the room. But it least it kept her mind from wandering to darker things.

The morning progressed in exactly the manner Anna had described, and it had mostly worked. Sitting behind her desk, a fresh cup of tea in one hand and another of her seemingly endless reports in the other, Elsa felt a lot calmer. Or at least more like she had the ability to control and complete some things. Certain things she couldn't delegate to the council, and of course some things that required a personal touch, more for the benefit of the recipient—something her father had drilled into her long ago.

"Good morning, Que—Elsa."

"Good morning, Hank," Elsa smiled behind her paperwork. Anna was right about how stiff Hank was. And how fun it might to needle him—but not right now. "I need help. My sister has shown me that much, at least."

"Princess Anna is oddly perceptive around you."

"We're sisters, Hank." Elsa smiled softly. "As I recall, you once had one too. Did she have a habit of always intruding upon you at the least opportune moment?"

"Ah, Sarah," Hank shook his head. "She did. She could be such a brat, too."

"And it is not just myself around whom Anna is 'oddly perceptive'. She's intelligent, well read, albeit very scatterbrained at times. Also has an aptitude for getting into all sorts of trouble if no one's paying attention to her."

"I had noticed that trend," Hank smiled and shook his head. "But we are drifting from the topic at hand. You need help."

"Because I think something terrible has happened. Inside me."

"You did force yourself to watch six men die yesterday. That would affect anyone with a conscience."

"Not this way." Elsa shivered, hugging her arms.

Hank didn't speak, walking around the desk to kneel beside her. She felt it as he took he took each of her hands gently in one of his own, allowing her to focus on something outside herself. Something clear and simple and that made her wish for more. The moment drew on, and the tension faded. Elsa sighed and looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She felt it when he let go. A single finger lifted her chin. She couldn't look away. Not this time. Her voice was a breathless whisper.

"Hank…"

Hank smiled, a slight curve at the corner of his lips. A smile just for her. Not just that, she realized—a smile _because_ of her.

"Hank, I—" but she simply couldn't find the words.

He leaned in closer, and closer still, whispering softly in her ear. "You are worthy, always." He leaned back slightly, addressing her more properly. "You might find this hard to believe, but I have seen this before—soldiers, returning home after their first battle. Or their last. Though they must decide in an instant the fate of another man, it does not salve the conscience any knowing that they acted swiftly rather than with deliberate purpose.

"And it is this purpose, I believe, that has you so disaffected. I suspect that what scares you is that you did not—could not—feel anything at the death of those men. I know that in the past you have striven not to feel, and also that now you are striving hard to feel everything—but have you considered what might happen were you to feel _too much_?"

Elsa rocked back as if struck. It was a concept she hadn't even begun to consider. Not for a moment since the event. Her first thought—as always—was that the fault lay with her, and her stunted emotional growth. It hadn't occurred to her that the emptiness she had felt might have been _because_ of that same emotional growth. It was a revelation, and one that left her breathless with confusion. Only then did she see Hank's smile. Only then did she notice the odd quirk of his brow. Only then did she realize what she had really wanted from him in that moment—and how wise it was of him to withhold it.

"And now my _houscarl_ is teasing me."

"I merely thought such a memory would be better left unassociated with such turmoil," Hank smiled softly, turning to leave. "You deserve your peace, and your enjoyment of life—however you might find it."

"What if I have found it?" Elsa managed a weak smile, her voice light.

"Then you should seek it out more often."

"And what if I have found it, but it's trying to walk out on me?"

"Trying to wal…" Hank turned, giving a deep mock bow. "Your majesty, I am flattered, but aren't there better candidates; say, from Rossisya, or Assam?"

"Captain Erikson!" Elsa couldn't help herself. He'd done too well. And to guess at those… urges, even if misdirected. Her voice was much lighter as she continued. "Have you, perchance, been reading my correspondence?"

"Perish the thought," Hank grinned at her, mischief in his eyes. "I read your poetry instead."

"But I don't… Has Anna been giving you lessons?"

"She thought it a good idea." Elsa rested her forehead in her left hand as Hank spoke. "Given that you are probably smarter than the pair of us, we decided to, ahem, pool our resources."

"So all that formality…"

"Okay, some of that is taking a while to re-adjust, but princess Anna has been helping me 'loosen up' as she calls it. She's also told me what she thinks you think you want from me; but as I keep telling her, you may well be ready—or at least think you are—but I may well not be. I—"

"The great captain Erikson, commander of men, protector of women, fearless in battle, _houscarl_ to the queen—not mention several years her senior—shies away from her courtship?"

Hank, turning an interesting shade of pink, suddenly started looking elsewhere. Elsa laughed softly and he froze, mid-step.

"If you want to make it more convincing, I really could freeze you in place… or maybe just your feet."

"An apt metaphor, I suppose," Hank slowly looked up, his cheeks losing their flushed tone. "Know that at the very least I still desire your courtship."

"I know you do, Hank," Elsa smiled softly, retreating behind her desk. "And I also know that you might think I'm moving too fast. I respect that you don't want to—and I won't deny that it has been fun teasing you, at Anna's insistence—but understand that to me your reticence is somewhat… frustrating."

"I do understand, Elsa; maybe more than you know," Hank took a seat opposite her. "I also know that _houscarl's_ are rare, and require training—especially when serving a person with as many… challenges… shall we say, as you face. Looking to the future, despite what may befall us, I don't want us to be uncomfortable with anything _then_ , even if it might be a little uncomfortable now."

"Is that why you won't help me get dressed in the morning?"

Hank looked carefully away before he spoke. "I would rather…" Hank coughed and cleared his throat, but Elsa had noticed the slight edge in his voice, concern, and… desire? "I would rather the first time I lay eyes on you in undress be less… businesslike. I do, truly, understand the necessity of it being so, perhaps daily, but the first time I would like to appreciate you, for everything you are."

"Just by looking at me?" Elsa laughed softly, a slight blush colouring her cheeks.

"You assume I would appreciate you only with my eyes?" Hank's expression hadn't changed, but Elsa felt her blush deepen. Surely he meant… and before her mind could complete the thought he nodded, just once. Now it was her turn to look away. And how was it discussing this—even so obscurely—with Hank caused such a different reaction to talking it over with Anna? Elsa shook her head to clear it, taking a breath and shuffling some papers around.

"I apologise, queen Elsa, if my words have made you uncomfortable."

"Oh, not exactly… uncomfortable," Elsa felt a new blush rising in her cheeks. "But you have given me much to think about. I had not expected such… openness… in discussing your desire for your liege."

Hank smiled, looking away briefly before meeting her eyes. "I had suspected you might know already—at least from the hints princess Anna has given me. I do believe she would very much like to see us together."

"Yes…" Elsa dragged the word out, her fingers steepled. "She has intimated that desire on several occasions. I think she fancies herself something of a matchmaker for me."

"It makes more sense than I would care to admit," Hank sighed. "It might also explain her distraction the last few times we have talked."

"Oh no," Elsa laughed softly. "That 'distraction' is all her. You get used to it, I hear."

* * *

Kristoff walked purposefully through the stables, Sven standing to at the far end of the building. Sven lowered his head and stretched his forelegs, snorting with impatience. Kristoff opened the gates to the stall and was nearly bowled over by the exuberant reindeer.

"I know buddy. We haven't had a good long run in forever."

" _You want to go to the mountains._ "

"I do. It wouldn't take us _that_ long. Plus, it gets us away from all those stuffy lessons."

" _But Anna would miss you. She needs you._ "

"She—There are times I _really_ don't like you." Sven snorted in amusement and licked Kristoff's face. "How about a bribe?" Kristoff dangled the carrot just out of reach. "Just for today, we'll go see Grand Pabbie and the rest of the family."

Sven happily took the carrot as Kristoff swung himself up onto the reindeer's back. " _You should tell someone we're going_."

Kristoff sighed. Much as he didn't want to admit it, Sven was right. Sven had always been that little bit better; something of a conscience in his darker moments. It kept him honest, if not exactly polite. He was also forced to admit that he did, in fact, care what Anna thought of his leaving, even briefly. Talking to his family would help. They knew more about dealing with people, and feelings, and other things like that—and without Anna present, they wouldn't try to marry them on the spot for a _third_ time.

"Okay Sven, let's go home." And Sven promptly turned and walked back into the stables. Kristoff let out a quiet huff. "Traitor. Fine, let's go see Grand Pabbie."

The air had a crispness to it, something peculiar to late summer in the forest. It had only taken the better part of an hour to make the run to the Valley of the Living Rock. Once again Kristoff's mind wandered to the springs hidden higher up the valley, in places the trolls didn't care to go. His mind also suggested he show Anna those springs, and how she might enjoy them—clothed or not. And though she had let him see her naked—in more ways than one—he still chided himself for the thought.

Kristoff sat cross-legged in the centre of the clearing, Grand Pabbie and Bulda standing in front of him as several of the troll children clambered over his shoulders and down his back. Sven was nearby, nuzzling someone while while several trolls climbed on his back, ready for a ride. Kristoff shook his head. Show off.

"Tell me Kristoff, what is it that bothers you so?" Pabbie patted Kristoff's knee. "Enough that you would abandon your Anna for even a day."

"I want to work the North Mountain again."

"And she doesn't want you leaving," Bulda ran her fingers down her chin. "Maybe she's scared you'll find someone else."

Kristoff frowned. "On the North Mountain?"

"Love can be a strange thing."

"And the other ice harvesters are all men."

Both trolls stared at him, uncomprehending. He sighed. In the past he'd tried to explain to them—and any other trolls that might listen—that human relationships were _different_. It was a concept they just couldn't grasp—and one of the reasons they kept trying to marry him and Anna on sight.

"You will be fine, my child," Pabbie spoke softly, his voice even. "But I fear for the Queen. Something deep in the forest has awoken."

"Elsa is in danger?"

"Perhaps. An ancient power has stirred."

"You mean magic, don't you?"

"It is an ancient magic, from the time the world was young and the sky was old."

"Where?" Kristoff frowned at the elder troll. "Do you know that much?"

"The Cave of Night."

Kristoff stood, shaking his head. He knew exactly where it was. Not in the heartwood, but the border forest. A place the trolls said was as old as time itself. A cave that held within it a sea of stars—and a terrible curse. If you believed in ancient curses, that was. It caused him pause, at least, when considering what to do next, but in all honesty his mind was already made up. Especially as Grand Pabbie and Bulda hadn't been too helpful with his other problems.

"Come on, Sven, we're going to find out what's going on here."

It never occurred to him that what he was going to investigate would be related to Elsa's sudden halt on the bridge the previous afternoon.

* * *

It took three hours—and a few breaks for snacks for both him and Sven—before Kristoff reached the Cave of Night. Or at least before he reached the source of Pabbie's disquiet. It was pretty clear to see, considering that heavy snow did not normally fall in summer. Nor did leaves freeze. It was only when he heard the crack of dead branches he knew he wasn't alone. The wind had masked the other man's approach. A man wearing a distinctive red coat and carrying a crossbow.

"You! Don't move!"

The man was close enough to almost yank him from Sven's back. Almost. Kristoff raised his hands, and spoke out the corner of his mouth. "Sven…"

Sven snorted in a great lungful of air and bellowed in the Weseltonian soldier's face. It was more than enough to send his panicked shot wildly astray. Kristoff vaulted from Sven's back and landed in front of the man, one massive fist flattening the red coated man. Rubbing his knuckles, Kristoff undid some of Sven's harness and bound the man's hands and feet. It seemed that Pabbie had been right about there being a danger to Elsa. The soldier and the ancient magic simply shared the same location. Of course, Elsa would want to know about both. It would easily be mid-afternoon by the time he got back, but this was something he knew he couldn't put off.

Which also meant Kai was going to corner him for more lessons on noble etiquette. He rolled his eyes, slinging his captive over Sven's back before leaping up himself. Maybe he'd ask Kai about starting duels instead. That, at least, might make the day more interesting. Of course, if the day got much more interesting he might consider spreading it out over a week. And he still needed advice from the trolls about Anna—and going away for winter.

With Sven moving at a canter, Kristoff eyed the heartwood and the North Mountain as they left the border forest. He was tempted to return home, collect his gear, and just scale the mountain for the hell of it. Something to get away and clear his head. Time to think about what he really wanted—and what having real, actual people in his life meant to him. Maybe that was why Elsa ran to the mountain, Kristoff shook his head, finally starting to understand. He truly liked—maybe even loved—Anna, but there was every possibility he actually had far more in common with her sister. Was it fair to either of them? Both of them? And even if he did know more than the trolls about relationships with other people, it still felt as if he knew nothing next to Anna and Elsa.

Some time later, as his thoughts wandered aimlessly around, Sven was approaching the outskirts of the town. The afternoon sky was overcast, promising evening rain and a warm night. He patted Sven's flank, leaning down to speak to his mount.

"Hey buddy, think we should get something to eat first?"

Sven snorted, shaking his head.

"Okay, fine, I'll go talk to Anna—after we give this guy to the guards, right?"

" _Yeah, she doesn't want to see those men again._ "

* * *

Anna stood on the castle wall, leaning over the battlements. In the distance she thought she could see someone approaching the castle. Someone with rough clothes, and rougher, sandy hair. Someone riding a reindeer—but there was something slung over the reindeer's back. Had Kristoff been hunting? Was he trying to prove something? Did he think she wouldn't approve of his sport? She squinted, trying to make out more detail, but it was hard at this distance.

"I take it you've found him then?" Elsa spoke softly from her seat against the next battlement.

Anna waved her hand in a vague shushing motion. "Quiet, I'm trying to figure out what he's been doing."

He had left a message about seeing the trolls, but Anna knew that shouldn't have taken the whole day. Something else was going on here. She wished she'd had the presence of mind to bring a spyglass with her, but as she had just been planning on walking the walls with Elsa she hadn—oh.

"Hey, Elsa, do you think you could make a spyglass?"

"Probably," Elsa's voice was distant, skeins of magic swirling above her hand. "I'm not sure if I could right now."

"Can you at least try?"

"Couldn't you just learn patience?" And Elsa poked her tongue out at her sister. Anna pouted.

"I guess it's not that important…" Anna let the statement hang. "Except Kristoff's got something else with him."

"What?"

"That's why I want the spyglass."

Elsa sighed, the magic disappearing from her hand. Anna shrugged, sitting next to her sister, taking her hand.

"You're worried, I get it—but shouldn't you try the little things? I mean, what if one day you really need to and I'm not there or something and you're feeling down and you just don't know whether or not you can and things just get worse and—sorry, that came out wrong—but if you can't do it then, wouldn't it be worse? And so maybe you should practice now so if something goes wrong it doesn't really matter and you can take your time to figure it out and I'll help you however I can." Anna frowned, confused. "Actually, _can_ I help? Is there anything I can do that helps your magic?"

"You wan't me to do more experiments, don't you?"

"Well, it'd be nice." Anna turned away, more than a little frustrated. She took the time to peer over the battlements once more, but Kristoff still wasn't close enough for her to make out any detail, aside from the fact that Sven's extra cargo was large, and red. And the red flapped like a flag in Sven's wake. What in Hel was Kristoff bringing in?

"Anna?"

"I really, really wish I had that spyglass now."

Elsa sighed, and Anna felt a sudden rush of wind. She turned to see Elsa holding tube of ice, brows furrowed in concentration, her other hand clenched so tight her knuckles were white. Anna knelt down beside her again, but the magic dispelled itself in a flash of blue snowflakes. Anna felt it as her sister took a deep breath, calling the magic back in another chill rush of wind. Overhead, the sky had begun to darken. As the tube for the spyglass took shape, a light snow began to fall, melting before it touched the ground.

The spyglass cracked against the stone walkway as Elsa fell limp, falling backwards in slow motion. Anna just managed to arrest her sister's fall. It was so sudden; so unexpected, she didn't have time to worry. But she could at least see the rise and fall of Elsa's breast, so she knew she was still breathing. Maybe she'd just used too much magic—but then what about her ice palace? Or maybe it was carrying over from yesterday, and finally hitting her properly? Anna shook her head, knowing her idle speculation was pointless.

Struggling to drag Elsa back into her chair, Anna also wished her sister was just a little lighter. Elsa's eyes fluttered open and she murmured words in the same strange language as the previous night. Now Anna was concerned. Elsa looked her straight in the eye.

"We have to go back."

"Where? What happened?"

"Your cave. And I think my dream, last night… I think it wasn't just a dream."

"A vision?"

"A woman, like me," Elsa spoke softly, as if she didn't quite believe her own words. "She keeps calling me _seidr_ , trying to tell me something."

"Well, if someone hadn't trashed the library this morning…"

The look of utter astonishment on Elsa's made it worth it. Anna smiled innocently.

Only then did she get dumped on by twenty pounds of snow.


	85. Onward and Backward

While Elsa would hesitate to call Kristoff's return triumphant, it did appear he'd been successful at whatever it was he had set out to do that morning. On Sven's back, trussed up in leather reins, was a disheveled man wearing an overcoat of Weaseltown red. When Kristoff slung him down he walked with a limp, and Elsa was forced to conclude that he must be a survivor from the fort. She felt the magic coiling around her hands, not sure if she _wanted_ to dispel it. This was one of the men that had tortured Anna. To try and control her.

To see Anna actually approach the man—without any sign of fear—was equally shocking and heartening. She'd come so far. She whispered something to the man.

"Palle…?" he stared at her blankly, repeating the name. "I am Buí."

"No, you're Palle," Anna was insistent. She pulled down the collar of her dress. "You bandaged this." She held up her left wrist. "This too."

The man looked confused. "Did I bandage your head?"

"No, that's from this morning," Anna shook her head. "But I know you. You're Palle, you were their doctor."

"I _was_ a doctor. I know things doctors know. I don't know who I am." He inclined his head towards Elsa, and she felt her blood run cold. "I know her. She has to die."

The sudden anger, her right hand up, prepared to strike—but Anna was in the way. Anna was turning to face her. And suddenly Palle was laid out on the cobbles, Anna trying in vain to massage her shoulder. She winced, smiling at Elsa.

"I saw your magic," she chided. "I've told you, you don't have to do everything yourself."

Elsa frowned. "I just think you have fun punching people." She held out a hand to stall any further comment. "Kristoff, where did you find him—and how?"

"Well, Grand Pabbie said you might be in danger, and that there was an old magic around. This is near the Cave of Night, and if you're not making the snowstorm there, I'd like to know who is."

"Where?" Elsa had no idea where—or what—the Cave of Night was, except, presumably, a cave.

"Yeah, where _did_ you find him?" Anna echoed her sister's sentiment.

"The Cave of Night," Kristoff explained patiently. "Is in the border forest, near the old standing stones. The trolls say it is older than Arendelle—but not them."

"A lake that reflects the stars…" Elsa mumbled, finally seeing the Troll's symbolism.

"Hey!" Anna was a moment late. "That's _my_ cave!"

"'Your' cave?" Both Kristoff and Elsa were giving her pointed looks.

"Well, yeah, I found it on that map, didn't I—and okay, yeah, it was a _really_ old map, with symbols around the edges and runes and lots of little scribbles and, oh, I get it. It was a _troll_ map."

Both Kristoff and Elsa stared at her.

"It's still my cave." Elsa laughed, Kristoff shook his head.

"You can't own a cave," Elsa spread her hands evenly. "But you said there was a snowstorm there?"

"Yes," Kristoff nodded, brows knitting together. "It's not yours, is it?"

"No," Elsa shook her head. "But I know whose it is."

Everyone turned to stare at her, including Sven.

"I was having weird dreams—I guess they weren't just dreams. Something is pulling me there."

"That's why you said we have to go there, right?" Anna cocked her head as she looked her sister up and down. Elsa smiled patiently.

"I have to." Elsa pursed her lips at her sister's frown. "It might not be safe for you—and before you protest that my magic is safe: this is _not_ my magic. It's wild. But I won't go alone either."

Both of them looked at her. Elsa just smiled. Anna figured it out first, her hand barely covering her giggling. Kristoff just looked confused. Elsa relented, telling him who she intended to take. He couldn't see the inherent humour—but he also didn't know Hank like Anna did. A mischievous grin quirking her lips, Elsa turned and started to wheel herself back into the castle. The guards would take care of Palle. She had a _houscarl_ to find.

* * *

"You want me to what?" Hank could already tell that Elsa was enjoying the power play. It felt somewhat disconcerting.

"I told you, you help me find the old _bautasten_." He could also tell that she was holding something back. More than the admission it had something to do with her magic.

"There has to be more to it than that—I know princess Anna is very difficult to discourage."

"I fully expect her to somehow make her way there, afraid or not, and that's another thing you can help with."

"Wait…" Hank frowned at his liege. "You expect me to restrain your _sister_?"

"If it comes down to it, you may have to, yes."

"You aren't giving me much choice."

"That's the idea, Hank."

"That's playing dirty, and you know it."

Elsa placed a hand over her heart. "You would accuse your queen of corruption?"

Hank gave her a long suffering look. "You could stop needling me for your own entertainment."

"I could." He saw Elsa's grin and shook his head, knowing that she wouldn't change.

"Then if I can't dissuade you from this excursion—or this mockery—might we at least begin to effectively organise this endeavour of ours?"

That organisation took the better part of two hours, much of the discussion focusing on timing—tomorrow afternoon—and necessary support. They also had to make contingency plans in the likely event that princess Anna managed to follow them, or stow away in their gear, or somehow appear behind them at what might be an inopportune moment. There were also other items Elsa had insisted that they bring, such as changes of clothing, and bedrolls. It wasn't so far to the location Elsa had pointed out, so the inclusion of those items confused him somewhat. There was clearly more to this little outing than Elsa was letting on—but every he time he pressed for more information she very effectively stonewalled him.

Only on that topic, however. If he asked anything related to the standing stones, her magic, or even other possible dangers in the border forest, then Elsa was perfectly willing to explicate. That she might be so reticent about something other than her feelings was both intriguing and worrying. Unfortunately pushing her on the subject right now was useless. It would have to wait until after dinner, or perhaps even later. Much later, Hank decided; the moment he would normally help Elsa into bed. It seemed right, somehow—but he would still ask.

"Elsa, I know that right now you are holding something back; there is more to this excursion than what you have said," Hank took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I will not ask further of you now if you can agree to discuss this at a point later tonight."

Elsa opened her mouth, closed it again, and began to wring her hands. Hank knelt next to her, holding his hands over hers. She nodded slowly. "Later—but for the full answer you will have to help me change."

Damn but she could play dirty. Hank shook his head, knowing when he had been defeated. It still didn't feel right, not with what they had discussed just that morning… or, Hank considered, was she now accepting that desire?

* * *

Anna walked into the dungeon, unsure if this was the right thing to do. It had come to her in a flash after lunch. Maybe if she confronted the person responsible for all her hurt, all her pain, all the innocence she'd lost… maybe then she could _really_ start to heal. Or maybe she would snap, like with Mikkel, and the evil little count wouldn't survive the afternoon. She shuddered at the thought—already she'd killed two people, and now she had considered a third, in cold blood. But it wasn't like he didn't deserve it.

The guard let her in and shut the door. She slid the grating closed on the door. The guard might hear something, but he wouldn't see anything. Anna's filled with fire as she stalked forward, the short man ahead of her trying to look imposing in the shadows. Anna laughed mirthlessly. She had to wonder why the count had even sent this man—unless, to the count, he was expendable. But in overhearing certain meetings, Anna also knew that this man, count Langenberg, was the Duke of Weselton's protegé.

"Hello." It came out as a squeak.

Langenberg laughed. Anna set her lips in a firm line.

"Hello, count Langenberg," much better. She saw the sudden worry in his eyes—he hadn't expected her to recover so fast. "Do you know who I am?"

"Princess Anna." He was pacing now, trying to move closer.

"Stop." Anna held her hand out. He didn't stop.

"You thought I'd obey you, girl?"

"I thought you'd know better." Anna wore a savage grin as she stepped inside his reach, a powerful jab driving him back and winding him.

The count stood back, catching his breath for several seconds. "You… you bitch. Women aren't supposed to _fight_."

Anna laughed. "You should have thought of that when you had me kidnapped."

"The queen can't fight, so she'll have her sister do it for her?" Langenberg had stepped forward again. Anna stepped sideways, letting him have a straight line to the door. He was smart enough not to take it.

"Oh, you didn't see the fort, did you?" Anna smiled sweetly. "No, all cosy in your cabin while your men roughed me up."

"A fort?" Langenberg was pointedly ignoring the second part, trying to throw off. Anna wasn't about to be deterred so easily—but she would still be polite enough to answer his question.

"The fort, where you had Mikkel keeping me in the dungeon. Well, maybe you just told him to use something close, but it was a fort. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a fort… no, it couldn't have been a castle. Yeah, definitely a fort."

Langenberg stepped wide, opening the distance between them. Anna had sparred with Hank enough to know what that meant. "Why are you even here, girl?"

The question was meant to distract her—and it did for a precious instant as she tried to figure it out for herself. She fell to the ground, winded hard by Langenberg's shoulder-charge, the back of her head cracking painfully against the stone floor. She blacked out. Langenberg was on top of her, hands around her throat—but he wasn't nearly as desperate as she was. Rolling hard onto the stump of her right arm, Anna managed to dislodge his hands and gasp a breath. A savage elbow aimed upwards and behind her was rewarded with a vicious crack of breaking bone. The weight on her legs was suddenly gone.

Then Langenberg kicked her in the ribs. She could hear scrambling at the door. She had to do this _herself_.

"I'm fine!" And she laughed at how much of a lie that really was. That same laughter seemed to deeply unsettle Langenberg. Massaging her throat, Anna stood, looking Langenberg straight in the eye. He didn't have the stomach to kill anyone—not with his own two hands. She laughed again—why should she be afraid of such a pitiful excuse for a ruler? The manic look in his eyes was deeply satisfying, and before she knew what she was doing Anna had him pinned halfway up the wall, her fingers clawing into his throat. He didn't expect a woman to fight—well then, he certainly wouldn't expect one to kill.

Anna let go, eyes filled with fire. Langenberg whimpered in a heap on the floor. "You can hurt me. You _have_ hurt me. Just remember who here can actually fight."

"Bitch." Langenberg spat, phlegm polluting Anna's dress.

She crouched in front of him, holding out her hand—her wrist—for him to inspect. "Look!"

He turned away. She moved closer, not letting him avoid it.

"Look! See what you did to me!"

"So I gave the feisty little bitch a scar. So what?"

"Don't you wonder why I have this scar? What they wanted from me?"

"They got what they needed." Langenberg's arrogant smile faded as Anna turned her back on him.

"That I very much doubt." Anna kept her voice level. Difficult with the anger she felt, and the sudden twinge of fear. "Should I show you the other scars they gave me?"

"Like that could shake me, little girl."

Maybe it couldn't, but Anna knew it would make her look mad—something she could use in the future against him. She began to strip off the top of her _bunad_.

"Really, you would offer yourself to—" Anna slapped him so hard a tooth came loose. The lecherous tone had been too much.

She pointed to the scar above her left breast. "They thought they'd killed me. Ruined your plan. Destroyed Weselton in the process. Maybe they thought I'd be less trouble dead."

"Less… trouble…?" Langenberg sounded a lot less sure of himself.

"I escaped. More than once. You really should know better than to try and lock up a girl that loves Flynn Rider—and do you know what they gave me for that?" Anna turned slowly, enjoying the shocked gasp. "I guess you've never seen the results of the lash so close before—or maybe you haven't seen a woman's back in too long. It hurt, by the gods, it hurt—but it didn't break me. It didn't stop me. I want you to understand that, count Langenberg. Your men couldn't stop me. A fragile little princess. How much chance do you think you stand?"

He rose, stepping forward, it was too easy. Anna's knee and elbow drove back into the wall.

"I know how to fight, remember?" Anna gave him another false smile. "My bodyguards are training me. I have to say, it's quite enjoyable; I dare say more women should take it up as sport."

"You… you…"

"Are standing here, in front of you, alive, half naked, and mostly whole, wondering what I should do with you. I could just kill you."

"No," Langenberg shook his head. "No woman has the stomach for that."

"Really?" Anna gave him a most savage grin. "Be sure to tell Mikkel that when you meet him."

"Where's Mikkel?"

"He's dead. I killed him."

"No, no way. No way a spoiled brat like you could kill a man like him."

"Not with my wrist on fire, blood running down my arm, a stolen dagger in my hands? No, still don't believe me? How about the cold steel of my blade slamming through his chest; the jarring shock as my wrist twisted when the blade broke? The pain in my chest when they shot me for what I'd done? Are you fully sure I couldn't kill you, here and now?"

"The guards would stop you." Langenberg was suddenly backing away.

"Who gives the guards orders?"

"The witch-queen."

Anna's punch was powerful enough to double him over. "If you _ever_ call my sister that again, I _will_ kill you. Now answer me, who else gives the guards orders."

"The crown princess."

"Very smart. I mean, I could get them to do it, not get my hands dirty, but I think I want the satisfaction of seeing the life drain out of your eyes as you realise a woman torn is the most dangerous thing you can face in this life. I'd send you straight to Hel, and I hope Jormungandr devours you twice a day." Anna smiled at the fear in his eyes. This was what she'd wanted to see. The count backed away into the corner, suddenly realising how wrong things had gone for him in this little fight.

"You could use me—I'm a valuable bargaining chip."

"I'm not here to bargain." Anna refastened her _bunad_. She drew a small knife from her pocket. "I was never here to bargain." Langenberg screamed.

The guard rushed in removed Anna from the cell. Outside she smiled weakly and dropped the knife. "Thank you for playing along," she whispered to him, walking away on unsteady legs. She hadn't told Langenberg about the scars no one else could see. The other people he had hurt by hurting her. She didn't actually know if she'd made Langenberg understand _anything_ about what he'd done. Her legs could only carry her another step.

She stumbled backwards, her back arching in protest as she slipped against the wall. She couldn't catch her breath, great, heaving gasps wracking her body. She was terrified, living a waking nightmare because of _him_. She'd wanted the confrontation to destroy him. Utterly and completely. She shivered in fear, elbow around her knees, huddled against the wall. Tears stung her eyes. It wasn't fair. Being fearless in front of the man that caused this was meant to make it go away. It was meant to make her feel _better_.

Anna cursed, tears of shame and regret coursing down her cheeks. She'd been stupid. She hadn't recovered nearly as much as she'd thought. She was still afraid. Courage wasn't the absence of fear—just the ability to act in spite of it.

But that still left the fear.

Anna pressed herself into the wall, wishing she could just disappear. She did. The wall closed behind her with a grating thump.


	86. Royalty at Play

Elsa was growing concerned. That Anna had not been seen for most of the afternoon was not uncommon. That she would miss dinner was unlikely in the extreme. No one had seen her leave the castle—though Elsa considered that the remotest possibility of all. Kristoff too, hadn't seen her since he arrived back. One of the dungeon guards admitted to having let Anna interrogate count Langenberg, then having seen her run off in apparent distress.

Normally that would mean finding Anna in her room, or Elsa's room. Or perhaps even the portrait room. But she was in none of those places. She wasn't in the stables. Or on the roof. Even Olaf hadn't seen her since the morning. The sun had set more than hour ago, and now Elsa was truly worried. Worried enough to share her concern with both Hank and Kristoff. All three of them had set off to search the castle, top to bottom, to try and find a single person. The most important person in Elsa's life.

It didn't occur to Elsa that right now Anna might not _want_ to be found.

Moving with purpose around the ground floor, Elsa couldn't find hide nor hair of her sister. Her worry was now giving way to dread. Was it possible that Anna had finally seen her true self, and not liked what she'd seen? But as soon as that feeling rose another tried to replace it. Anger. How dare Anna pull a stunt like this, worrying her half to death—and not just her either. What about Kristoff—the man she was courting? And Hank—her friend and sparring partner? Elsa wrung her hands in frustration, hands balling into fists on the arms of her chair.

She paused in the ballroom, taking in the ice sculpture she had made days ago. A painting, or an etching more like. Her castle, and two figures out front—standing tall. Anna's dream for her. Anna wouldn't abandon her, not now. She couldn't be taken—no one in the kingdom would be mad enough to try that. Think. Elsa willed herself to stop. There had to be a reasonable explanation. This was very unlike Anna—at least, recently. Not so long ago she would only steal around the castle when no one else was there. And the castle, as such an old building, had many, many ways to sneak around unseen.

But if she disappeared too, then it might look like _another_ crisis of succession. Not something the staff—or kingdom—needed again. Sighing, Elsa rolled gently up the stairs, a ramp of ice forming before her and dissipating behind her. It was time to find the others, and Kai and Gerda. It might take all of them to find Anna within the tunnel network. That was also assuming Anna stayed in one place—which Elsa knew was very unlikely. Still, she talked with Kai and Gerda, then Hank and Kristoff, and all five of them spread out throughout the secret passageways of the castle.

Not all of the passageways connected with the others. Not all of them spanned every floor. It was deliberate on the part of their designers. When she was younger Elsa had discovered that there were at least two networks running through the castle; one which could be used to escape the royal bedrooms, the throne room, and the ballroom; and another which linked kitchens, banquet halls, the council chambers and the conservatory. A single tunnel ran from the guard barracks to the dungeons, and required a key, as well as the knowledge of its existence.

An hour later and Anna still hadn't been found, and Elsa was finding it hard not to become panicked at her sister's disappearance. Hank placed a gentle hand against her shoulder. She reached up and gripped it with her own. He didn't have to say anything—she already understood.

"It's almost time for bed," Elsa mostly succeeded at keeping the alarm from her voice. "And we still haven't heard a damned thing."

"It occurs to me, your majesty," Hank knelt beside her. "That princess Anna may be actively evading us at this point."

Elsa paused for a moment, free hand worrying the crucifix she wore. "You think she keeps running away?"

"Hide and seek, I think."

A pregnant pause followed that statement.

"Did master Bjorgman tell you we had found some clues to her whereabouts in the tunnels you asked us to explore?"

Elsa frowned. She'd heard nothing of that. "It clearly slipped his mind. That said, have you seen him recently?"

"Now that you mention it…" Hank turned suddenly thoughtful. "Not for the last half hour, at least."

That decided it, and a short while later Elsa sat outside the door Kristoff's room, hand inches away from knocking. She could hear him talking—and he wasn't making the Sven voice. There was a very quiet reply. Then something rather louder.

"Elsa you stinker, I know you're out there!"

"How?"

The noise that came back through the door couldn't really be described as a word. From inside Elsa heard something suspiciously like 'she's not supposed to reply'. Footsteps approached the door, and when it opened, it did so only a crack—after the lock had been unbolted. Kristoff looked down at her, a nervous smile on his face. Elsa looked back at him evenly. Hank turned studiously to face the other way. Only then did Elsa notice Kristoff was leaning _around_ the door, the rest of him invisible to her. She held up her hand, unable to meet his gaze.

"I won't even ask—but Anna is okay, isn't she?"

Kristoff nodded. "She did something stupid, and needs some help… err… untangling herself from the situation."

Shaking her head, Elsa turned from the door. She was hurt that Anna hadn't come to her for help, but it was enough—for now—to know that she was safe. As to what, exactly, she might have been tangled up in, Elsa had a quite a list from her youth. Kai had told such stories. The one about her dangling by her ankle from a single bedsheet tied to a string of dresses and other linen was one of the best. The door closed quietly behind her, and through she thought she heard a pained squeal, followed by cursing.

Just like old times.

Smiling, Elsa led Hank back up the stairs to her own room. "You wanted to know more about tomorrow, right?"

"I do… but…"

"How about we talk more in my room…" Elsa's voice was silken.

"Why do I suddenly feel like the spider?"

* * *

Kristoff locked the door as Hank and Elsa moved away, turning back to his girlfriend currently hiding under the covers of his bed. He hadn't lied about her being tangled up in something stupid—he'd just neglected to mention it was mostly in her mind. How her hair had gotten in such a mess was a better question, and as he tried unsuccessfully to tame it she would occasionally wince or squeal or curse at him. He gave up and just stared at her.

"How?" he was stupefied.

"Y'know, I don't really know." Anna was shaking her head. "I didn't think I was out that long."

"It's nearly nine, you had Elsa worried sick. Hank too. The servants—"

"But not you?" Anna fired back hotly.

"What? No!" Kristoff sat next to her on the bed, crossing his arms. "Or yes. Maybe. I _was_ worried. I wanted to go out and tell them you were safe."

"I'm glad you stayed."

Kristoff rolled his eyes. "You're pushy, you know that?"

"I thought you liked me being feisty."

"I do… just… I guess I do actually care about doing the right thing."

"And you think it's still the right thing to go to the mountains?"

"That's unfair." Kristoff gave her a stern look, but she didn't wilt under it. "Pulling that card on me right now. But I still think it's the right thing for me. You'll be okay—and it's still a few months away. I'll come back."

"But what if you don't?"

"You're afraid of me running away? With another ice harvester?"

"Well…" Anna looked rather sheepish as she gave it more thought.

"Or of me getting hurt?"

Anna nodded slowly. Kristoff patted her bare shoulder.

"I'm careful; we all know how dangerous the mountains can be—but we also know how important our ice is. It's a big deal, okay, and it's not going away anytime soon." Kristoff was glad she didn't mention the word magic—and that was also a discussion they'd had often enough recently.

"So, do you think we're alone enough now?" Anna's sudden change of subject was jarring.

"I hope so—but where else do those tunnels lead?"

"Well, Elsa's room, my room, the servants' quarters. It used to let them all get around unseen. Me too."

"And you're still sure you want me to… touch you like that?"

"I feel stupid, and vulnerable, and lonely, and I want to be touched. I like it when you touch me—and I know if I say stop, you'll stop. And I mean we're courting anyway, and we'd probably do this eventually, so maybe it's just a little early, but it's what _I_ want."

"And what I want?"

"Oh, please don't tell me you've got a stick up your butt the size of Hank's…"

Kristoff chuckled at the mental image. "Okay, funny; and no—but I do feel a little… rushed. I guess."

"Your family keeps trying to marry us." Anna made sure to remind him.

"They do," Kristoff agreed. "They want me to be happy, but they don't really get it. They don't understand people are different."

"I'm glad you do. So, I guess I really should ask if you think it's okay, right?"

"As long as it's okay with _you_."

Kristoff slid under the covers next to her as her hand found his, squeezing tight. They were both naked—the reason he had only shown his face to Elsa earlier. Anna shuffled halfway back up the bed, sitting against a pillow, throwing the covers into disarray. He turned to look up at her, appreciating the vision she was; the slight hint of confusion on her face, lips parted slightly with shallow breaths, the dusky flesh immediately beneath her breasts, their rise and fall as she breathed, the freckles covering her cheeks and shoulders. Even the way her hair seemed to fly in every conceivable direction—and a few that weren't. After a moment he slid up and sat next to her. How they'd made such a mess of the bed with so little movement was confusing. Also, apparently, Anna was too.

"I–I don't know how to start," her voice was abashed.

Kristoff held back a chuckle. The irony. "What about the sauna?"

"Maybe… well, it was nice and warm, like this…" Anna trailed off. "Wait, stay there, I've got a better idea—here, spread out—" and here she pushed his legs slightly further apart, seating herself between them, leaning back into his chest. "—this'll be more comfortable."

Kristoff didn't bother mentioning something else she would be feeling there—she'd already know by now. Especially considering it was starting to stand to attention. She shifted slightly, pressing almost painfully back into him. Her hand lifted his, placing it against her breast.

"It's alright," her voice was a husky whisper. "Like the sauna, but… more… this time. You're not… uncomfortable, are you?"

"Well," Kristoff swallowed. "You are leaning against something delicate."

Anna shifted position slightly. The weight lifted, and as it did his manhood twitched. She giggled at him. "Better?"

"Much." He lifted his hand to cradle her shoulder, starting to press in with his fingers. "And if it's too much for you, just say stop, or hold my hand like you do, okay?"

"Okay…" Anna trailed off as Kristoff set his hands to work, fingers gently working at the muscles of her shoulders—there really was a lot of tension there. Her skin was soft and warm, covered in freckles, and he heard her sigh his thumbs worked against her shoulder blades, ever careful of her scars. His hands moved down, just the left at first, gently cupping the fullness of her breast, fingers sinking into the soft flesh beneath as she relaxed into him, forcing him to shift slightly to avoid things being squashed downstairs.

His fingertips traced up the outside of her breast, tracing up into the hair beneath her arms, pressing gently at a very particular pressure point. She didn't move until his fingers did, starting to squirm and writhe against him as his other arm wrapped around her to hold her steady. She giggled, breath coming in sharp gasps. Then his other hand tickled her ribs. She shifted suddenly, trying to avoid the touch—trying to escape. But he knew at least this much she would always do—she liked the game of it.

His left arm reach across her front, pressing into her breasts, tickling her her underarm on the other side. She twisted and turned in mock protest, finally falling back onto him.

"It's not fair you get two hands to do that with!"

He laughed at the mock petulance she was putting on. His right hand swept up, cradling her breast, while his left hand pressed into the place just below her belly.

"So… unfair…"

He kissed the crown of her head, spitting out stray hairs. She laughed as he whispered in her ear. "Did you want me to stop? Only use one hand?"

"Tease," she turned sharply, their lips meeting for an instant. "And why stop now, I've hardly got what I want. Or you, from what I can feel."

Kristoff felt his cheeks grow warm. It was impossible to avoid, really, given their position up against the pillows. But she wasn't complaining—more like teasing him back. He countered by placing each hand against the outside of her thighs, fingertips rolling in towards the inside of her legs. A gentle squeeze turned into a soft massage, eliciting a happy sigh from in front of him. His hands worked higher—still on her legs—then traced a rough heart around the fiery curls above her entrance. He could feel the gooseflesh he was raising on her arms, and moreover he could see it down her chest, over the proud swell of her breasts. He kissed her shoulder, savouring the slight trace of salt from her sweat.

His hands roved slowly across her body, pressing into her stomach, tracing ticklish lines up her sides, gently cupping her breasts, working the tension out of her arm. She lay contentedly against him, head back, breath just slightly shallow. With his left hand he gave the firmer flesh of her nipple a gentle, playful pinch and she gave a start of surprise as she shivered in pleasure. Something else he could use in the future. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he blew hair out of his face.

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes…" she sounded half asleep. "I wan—you're nice… and… yeah, I like."

His hands curled under her breasts, cupping them neatly, feeling their fullness—small, perhaps, but still beautiful. He also had to admit that maybe his hands were large as Anna was small. Then he turned his attention back to her—back to her body—as she'd insisted he do. Both hands pressed in gently as they began to glide down her belly, pulling gently, teasingly, at the curls above her entrance. With a gentle motion he spread her legs a little wider, feeling her shiver of trepidation. A frisson of adrenaline made him shiver. She had said she wanted it, and now he was going to make good on that.

Fingers traced from below her entrance to the hood above it, following the crease of her thighs. Kristoff could feel the sudden heat of her body, the sweat starting to stick them together. She wasn't the only one excited by the idea. And there was an even better way to make sure she actually was ready—actually knew that this was what she wanted. He took her hand in his, placing it against her curls. His own hand rested next to it. There was an endearing moment of confusion until she understood, guiding his hand over her body, tracing the places she liked to be touched. Fingers on one hand pinned back the folds of her entrance, a slickness beneath them that was not entirely unfamiliar. His other hand ran slowly up and down that exposed length, sliding easily against the wetness within. Her hand caressed and massaged the bud at the roof of her garden, turning her once normal breaths into sharp, ragged gasps.

Just one finger on his right hand began to press and very gently pinch the hood over the secret bud she was teasing. His left hand had two fingers curled into a hook, just as she'd shown him before, reaching inside the warm, slick, almost constricting passage behind her entrance. They worked at the secret place, inside and out, together bringing her higher, riding to the peak she wanted to fall from. Her entire body arched and shuddered, rising away only to fall back heavily, driving the wind from him. It left him full of wonder.

Anna slid down very slowly, rolling onto her side, panting, seemingly unable to catch her breath. Her face was flushed, cheeks bright red, hair falling in awkward tangles, sweat glistening on her shoulders, breasts, stomach and thighs. She made a strange noise of contentment, then let out a gentle, sated sigh.

"That was. Intense. It's never felt. That powerful. Before." She turned to smile beatifically up at him. "I think. I really do. Love you. Or maybe just. Your hands… Oh. Gods. Your _hands_."

Kristoff leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "I can't take all the credit. I have an amazing teacher."

"You think. I'm amazing?" Her sudden, shy smile was wonderfully endearing, even if she was still catching her breath.

"You are," he leaned down to kiss her. "And I want to tell you off for being a fool with Longburg, but I don't want to spoil this."

"Too late," Anna groaned, flopping sideways and spreading out, staring up at the ceiling. "I get it. It _was_ stupid. I just wanted… something."

"Vengeance. After everything his men put you through; everything they tried to do to Elsa." Kristoff took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose. "I don't blame you. Really, I don't—I even understand _why_ you did it."

"Thank you?"

Kristoff shrugged. "It's done. We can't change it, so we may as well move forward, right?"

"Yeah, keep moving forward. And thinking of that…" Anna rolled back towards him, pressing against his side, slender fingers suddenly wrapping around his manhood. "Maybe I can make us even, if you'd like?"

"I would," Kristoff swallowed, suddenly realising that what he'd just done was to a princess—and that she was going to pay him in kind. "I mean, as okay as you're long—what?"

Anna laughed, smiling up at him. "So the stories are true, you can use your brain, or—" and she gave his shaft a lascivious squeeze. "–you can use this."

He mocked her petulant tone from earlier. "Unfair."

She laughed again, her hand starting to slide up and down. She really did have quite small hands, but right now that seemed like an asset, letting her work with surprising deftness. It was so much simpler than what he'd done for her it was almost laughable. Then she was suddenly level with him, drawing him into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I wish I had another hand to help me," her voice held a strange note of desire. "So I could give you as much as you gave me."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, holding her tight. "You're doing fine with just—ooh—one."

She smiled, kissing him again, hand starting to move faster. Every now and then she'd pause, giving his shaft a tight squeeze, almost taking away from the buildup he was feeling—almost. Then with another stroke she fully exposed the head, stopping to explore it with her fingertips. His hands clenched into fists at the sudden frustration. Then she leaned down, her breath warm against his shaft and head, her lips pressing playfully about the tiny band linking the two. Then she was lying back next to him, her hand once more sliding up and down.

"I wanted to know if you tasted different."

He couldn't help the question. "Different to what?"

"Me." She giggled again, her thumb making a sudden sweep over the top of his head while her fingers raced up and and down his shaft. He could feel it so close now. He didn't know how she was getting it so right, but she was. Then she pulled it down, keeping it hard and tight, waiting for the spasm to come. She really, really knew what she was doing. Thick ropes squirted up to his chest, and suddenly she was staring in wonder at him.

"Have you… have you done that before?" He _had_ to know.

"No," her smile was backed by an incandescent blush as she reached over the side of the bed. "But there's one book in the library that Elsa thinks is a _complete_ secret."

"So you read the whole thing."

"Are you complaining?" She gave him a searching look, fishing her blouse up from beside the bed. He shook his head as she gently cleaned him with the hemline of her blouse. "Umm, am I going to have to explain weird stains to Gerda tomorrow?"

"Probably," Kristoff leaned against her. "Unless you know how to do laundry yourself."

"I do, actually," she sounded rather proud of herself. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"It's true," he admitted quietly. "But I'd like to know more. Like why you didn't think of something to clean up with other than your blouse. Or why you're so fired about us. Or even why your hair does that weird thing where it goes everywhere."

"I'd like to know that one too." Anna's laughter was a sweet lullaby as he began to drift off, their sweat was starting to stick them together. She didn't try to move away. He liked that, leaning over to give her a sleepy kiss. She drank in its depth, her eyes half-lidded with satiated exhaustion, falling back next to him. Together they fell into a blissful sleep, unaware that there were others in the world besides them.

* * *

Hank stood before Elsa, waiting, watching. He could see the emotions warring behind her eyes. She wanted—needed—him to be ready. Not soon, but now. He couldn't work out why. It had to be something to do with their excursion to the cave tomorrow. Little else could explain the degree of urgency. At least, little else that he could think of.

"I know this is difficult," Elsa whispered quietly, unable to meet his gaze. "And I know I'm probably forcing you to do it—and I hope you know that in this case, really wish I didn't have to. But tomorrow is too important, and if anything happens, you might _need_ to help me tomorrow. I just want–I thought maybe if you'd done–I don't know what to call it. Practice just sounds silly."

"Then don't call it that," Hank kept his voice carefully neutral. It was most helpful to hear her reasoning, and the regret in her voice when she admitted to forcing this on him. Her rationale also made sense, and she was right—better to falter today, when it mattered little.

"There's more," Elsa admitted at length, trying to meet his gaze. Hank returned her searching look. "So much more—but I'm afraid; afraid of how you might see me afterwards."

"I'd see you naked," Hank wasn't referring to her clothes, and he could tell she knew what he meant.

"It's awkward, and complicated, and maybe deeper than you want to know. I want to be able to lay myself bare for you—for us to have no secrets—but it scares the life from me."

Hank knelt in front of her, gently taking one of her hands in his. "Know that I understand the courage it takes to say even that. I cannot say that what you will not cause me to look at you in a different light—and I also cannot say if that would be positive or negative. But know at least that if something should change I shall speak of it honestly with you; I can do nothing else."

He watched as she blinked back tears. "I've never been this open with _anyone_ before. Not Kai; not Anna; not even Papa."

"I am surprised to hear you say that, especially considering your closeness to your sister." He stood and took a quiet breath. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"No–No, I'm really not," she shook her head as she spoke. "I want to be able to open up to _someone_. Why shouldn't it be you?"

"You recall our discussion this morning?"

"That we desire each other should be more reason to be honest, should it not, captain Erikson?"

"Do you plan on making that an order?" Hank kept his voice light; hopefully she would know he was teasing.

"Only if—oh. Well played. And if we're done with the verbal sparring for now, perhaps you might begin to undress me?"

Hank eyed her evenly, taking in what she was wearing—a simple looking dress with a cream coloured blouse underneath, and what she wore under that he had no way of knowing. He had helped dress injured soldiers for parades, and this would be simple enough—only in reverse, of course. The problem was going to be removing the dress. It had no fasteners front or back, slipping down over the shoulders to fall into place. That meant it had to be remove the same way.

"I'm going to start with the dress." It was hard keeping his voice neutral, thinking about what he was doing—and going to be seeing. At Elsa's nod he rose, lifting the front of her skirt, gathering the layers in a bunch. He asked her to hold that bunch while he began drawing the skirt up behind her legs. Moving the skirt from beneath her backside was much more difficult, helping her shift side to side as he drew the skirt into rough folds. Eventually he had it over her hips, almost ready to remove. One last tug freed a stubborn bunch of fabric.

"Arms up, please." He gathered the dress as best he could, sliding the whole thing up and over her chest and arms, trying to spread it neatly against the side of the bed. Her turned back to her to see a shy, slightly embarrassed smile accompanied by a soft blush in her cheeks.

"I guess I didn't expect it to feel so… different."

"Different?" Hank frowned softly.

"Alright, fine. Awkward. But I'm guessing it's the first time you've tried to undress a woman."

Hank shook his head slowly, and couldn't fail to see the sudden flash of disappointment behind her eyes. She recovered quickly.

"A woman with my… challenges, then, as you called them."

"True," Hank acceded. "And you are still willing to be so open with me?"

"I am," Elsa swallowed quietly. "I'm still afraid. I feel like I'm afraid every day—and I don't even know of what. Sometimes it's Anna suddenly running away. Sometimes it's doing something stupid and starting a civil war. Sometimes it's about what I was forced to do to those men. And sometimes it's even about you."

"Me?"

"I don't know. I'm just scared I'll do something wrong, and you'll leave me, or you'll just stop supporting me, or… I don't _know!_ And I hate not knowing. It makes it worse."

Placing a hand against her shoulder, Hank knelt in front of her. With his free hand he lifted her chin, making sure they were seeing eye to eye. "If you ever— _ever_ —did something that wrong I would tell you. I would want you to explain yourself. I wouldn't just run."

"Maybe," Elsa shook her head with uncertainty. "But I just can't shake this feeling. Like somehow I've been damned to live an empty life, and I only have you and Anna now so something can tear you all away from me and make it _worse_."

Hank leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers. This wasn't her. This was the darkness she carried talking through her. That she could function at all through it was an impressive display of inner strength. And perhaps, right now, she just needed something reassuringly normal. Even something she could tease him about. He broke into a grin, looking away quickly.

"You asked me to undress you, but if I take any more away I might see you truly naked. I'm not sure you could countenance that."

"You thin—I want—Hank!"

He turned to face her again, his smile the very picture of innocence. "Did I say something wrong?"

Her anger quickly turned to wonder and amusement. "I had no idea you were capable of such masterful guile. And thank you; I didn't like where my mind was starting to take me, but for some reason I couldn't stop it either."

"Perhaps we can discuss this another time, and for now I'll just finish undressing you?"

"I said I would tell you more about tomorrow; about why," there was a hard edge of determination to her voice. "I will. It might be hard. You might need to drag me back again—but I _want_ to tell you. You deserve to know what Anna did in there."

"What Anna did?"

"Ah, ah, blouse first."

Hank sighed in resignation. He didn't like it, but he had agreed to it. He knelt before her, letting her hands guide his, carefully undoing each of the buttons holding the blouse closed against her chest. As it fell open he couldn't help but wonder at the sheer paleness of her skin—it was almost as if she was a porcelain doll. There were certainly times she seemed as fragile, after all. She gave him a gentle—almost playful—slap on the wrist.

"Undress me first, ogle me later, you great brute."

Hank laughed, moving behind her to slide the blouse over her arms. "Should I throw you over my shoulder as my latest conquest then?"

"Such sharp wit from a soldier. I'm impressed."

"And you said Anna did something to you, in that cave."

"Persistent, too." Elsa heaved a sigh, and as she started to slump forward Hank placed a hand against her to brace her shoulder. "This is one of the things I'm actually scared of telling you. But I have to. I have to know how you feel about it." Elsa swallowed hard before whispering the next part. "Anna kissed me, properly."

Before Hank could reply, Elsa held up a hand, taking another breath to continue. "She wasn't confused or anything like that. I was. I _liked_ it. I don't know if it was her, or me, or the cave, or that it was another young woman, but I really liked it. It almost scares me how much I liked it."

Hank let her shoulder go in shock. It wasn't completely unheard of for women to like the company of other women in that particular way… but Elsa? The woman—queen—he planned on courting? But why would she court him if she admitted to liking the company of women? He shook his head in confusion, taking a breath to clear his mind. This was the kind of secret he wished he'd never learned. Now it was far too late.

"Hank?" Elsa's voice was very small, and she looked up at him only with the greatest degree of trepidation. "Hank?"

"I–This is–It's a great shock to learn that you would prefer the company of other women."

"I like you too, Hank." He hated the edge of desperation he heard in her voice. "Why else would I be courting you?"

"If I answer honestly, no matter how untrue it might be for you, you may well hate me," Hank swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat, only now noticing the chill in the air. "And if I lie, you will hate me for lying. But I also do not want to withhold this from you." Only now did he know what it felt like to be trapped between Scylla and Charybdis.

"Then simply speak your mind—remember how much I value your honesty."

"To the first, then, you may simply be courting me to avoid the drudgery—or suspicion—of any other suitors. To the second, perhaps you are unsure yourself of whose company you might prefer, and I may merely be an experiment to find the right one."

Elsa sighed, rolling her eyes. "I had to pick the smart one…"

"Your majesty?"

Elsa slowly turned away from him. "I understand if you want to take your leave of me now. I can handle the rest."

Hank turned her back around, crossing his arms. "No. I am still shocked by this revelation, but I am willing to take you at your word that you are courting me because you do, indeed, have deeper feelings for me. In addition, I have agreed to undress you as completely as you desire—if my presence is now making you uncomfortable, you may ask me to leave, and I will."

Elsa drew in a breath. "I feel like we're both being fools about this."

"You more than me, madame Frostheart."

"You… you… dare…" Hank couldn't help but laugh at her sudden indignation. It completely defused the sudden tension between them. "You will pay for that, sire babyface."

He just stared at her in awe. She was playing along.

That was when a ton of snow flattened him into the floor to a shriek of delighted laughter.

"As soon as I dig myself out…" Hank began scooping at the snowfall with his hands. "I swear…"

"Oh, please tell me you'll do terrible things to me," there was just too much mischief in her smile. "Terrible, terrible things. Things no lady should ever see."

He fell against the floor, defeated. "You are having far too much fun right now."

"Well, you started it." She was right. Still buried under a thick blanket of snow he was beginning to regret teasing her back. She had even lulled him into a false sense of security by playing along. And she _wanted_ his revenge—expected some kind of playful touch. He sighed, burying his face in the snow. He had just played right into her hands.


	87. Shifting Responsibilities

Elsa dreamed without dreaming, once more finding herself within the ancient and familiar forest. She marvelled at how she stood, at how _real_ all of it felt. It was more than a dream, but less than reality. She was tempted to call it a vision, but it wasn't that either. It was something trying to break through to her—something that had great difficulty in doing so. With no small amount of trepidation she began to open herself to her magic, hearing the whispering call of the other echoing along it. It was drawing her onwards, deeper into the forest, past the _bautasten_ and into the cave.

The other stood in the cave, completely nude, facing the lake beneath the stars. Water streamed down from above, blurring the outline of her body, turning her into a rough smudge. Elsa pressed onwards, pausing just shy of the waterfalls. Waterfalls that seemed older, stronger, and more magical in this time. The other woman had already noticed her, voice skating softly across the water. Elsa still couldn't understand, but she heard the tone of invitation. With a slight blush she removed her own icy dress, stepping slowly into the water. She could sense the other's amusement at her embarrassment.

For a while she floated, drifting with the current, her eyes adjusting to the night sky and the stars overhead, the aurora chasing itself with green and blue swirls shot through with ribbons of yellow and odd streaks of red. The other woman had drifted closer, gently twining their fingers together. Elsa turned her head, staring. The woman gave her a soft smile, slightly unsure, and then the world above them exploded with magic, countless glittering snowflakes drifting down, casting rainbows from the light of the stars alone. Elsa stared at the display in wonder—she knew what it was that made ice so clear.

But from the voice and tone beside her, Elsa knew it wasn't the romantic kind. The other woman was simply elated to have found another—another like her. Elsa sighed, wishing she could understand. Then a flash of memory came to her—the time when Anna found it too hard to say a single word. Elsa closed her eyes, trying to remember the runes, the order she should put them in. She concentrated on her magic, hands starting to move of their own accord. From beside her she heard a sharp gasp. She opened her eyes and looked up.

Already another phrase was taking form next to her own. Something she could read—she squinted. Yes, she could definitely understand this. She drew on her magic again, shaping an appropriate response. The other woman punched her in the arm, much like Anna would. It was a congratulation. Very quickly they found themselves talking about far more than just magic. Before the conversation could get any further, the rays of dawn began to shine down from above, and the other woman was gone.

But her final message glittered lazily in the wan light. _You know where to find me._

Elsa woke with a start, sunlight pouring in through open curtains. Hank stood next to the window, looking slightly guilty.

"It's okay," Elsa yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I had a weird dream. Or vision. Or something."

Hank said nothing, turning away quickly and continuing to open the curtains.

"Hank, are you going to say anything?" Only then did Elsa notice the stiffness in his posture, and the way he was looking studiously _away_ from her. She looked down. Her nightgown had somehow slipped halfway down her chest, exposing things. Of course Hank couldn't talk. Elsa laughed, pulling the strap back up over her shoulder. "Alright, it's safe, I'm properly attired now."

"I apologise if I have cause—"

"Quiet, Hank," Elsa cut him off, spreading her hands evenly. "It was an accident, nothing more. I would not hold it against you—unless, of course, you'd _like_ that to be held against you."

Elsa giggled at the odd, strangled sound coming from across the room. Maybe his words last night had been right—she really was enjoying this far more than she should have been. It took a moment for her to calm herself down, and then she was all business again.

"Enough then," Elsa wore a contrite smile. "Perhaps I should apologise for so needling you, entertaining though it may be."

"Thank you," Hank's voice was back to normal. "I appreciate that."

"As an aside, you should know that you have set yourself to be an easy target in my presence. But on to today, and our excursion—have we set everything in motion that needs to be done before we leave?"

"Barring some food to take with us, yes—and of course, contriving a method with which to contain your sister."

"That may well prove impossible, but I shall speak to her later this morning—assuming she has awakened by then."

"Very well." Hank let out a resigned sigh. "And because I am still here, I assume you will ask for my help in dressing yourself this morning?"

"I would like to—and I would like for you to be willing to help." Elsa let out a quiet sigh of her own. She had managed to keep the disappointment from her voice at least. Hank was just so formal and proper, which was what made him such an easy target. It was also what would make him so useful—in part, at least—as a _houscarl_ and retainer. A sly smile crossed her lips. "Or did perhaps seeing my state of undress stir up too many repressed desires?"

Hank swallowed hard. Bullseye.

"If you continue courting me, one day those may even become reality."

"Please…" Elsa couldn't tell if it was a plea for her to stop, or an ardent wish for her to continue.

"But maybe we should just start with breakfast—and you may ask me anything you desire."

Hank let out a sudden breath. "And you would be so open?"

Elsa nodded, shuffling further out of bed, swinging her legs over the side. "Yes—at least, I hope I could be. And if, for now, you do not think you can help me, you could at least find Gerda to serve in your stead."

* * *

Søren woke and shook his head, trying to clear it. Everything was different now. He had managed to get back to the workshop at least, and had been busy the previous afternoon, practising his scrimshaw—it still wasn't very good. Just like his position amongst the townsfolk now. He knew those people—or at least he thought he had. Now he wasn't so sure, seeing how quickly they had turned on him, blaming him for what Konrad had done. They assumed he'd been a good father.

He sighed, head in his hands, wiping away a silent tear. They assumed he'd been a _good_ father.

They had no idea. How often he was out—how late it was. How little he saw his son. What low regard they'd had for each other of late. But Konrad had been growing, and responsible, and even if they hadn't talked much, he'd seemed able to handle himself—better than Søren had at that age anyway. It was all so messed up now—and even after losing his son, he was still being punished for his sins. A place in Valhalla—or even Folkvangr—was seeming far less likely. All he had was his trade—and maybe the guilds.

Maybe.

With a deep, unsteady breath he stood, running a comb roughly through his shaggy hair, tying it back in a single tail. His beard got a little more attention, tidy enough to be more than presentable. His ruffled shirt wouldn't matter—it would be hidden by his apron anyway. He was going to make something of today, literally. The only question was what—and only then did his mind turn to the queen, and his long abandoned idea for a gift. It didn't need to be practical—her magic already helped her enough in that regard—no, this gift had to be something more, something special. This gift had to be—

A sudden knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. He opened it slowly, a short man standing under the awning. He looked up, frowning slightly at Søren's rough appearance.

"I brought in a watch some time ago. You did say Friday, yes?"

Søren squinted, giving it more thought. It was the same little old man, and he had given him the watch. Then he had given that watch to the jewellers guild, and they had started their work, then… then he'd lost track of it when everything came crashing down around him.

"Master Skjeggestad?"

"I believe it is still with jewellers; I haven't had time to collect it yet."

"Ah, so I should talk to them, yes?" There was a strange note of urgency in the man's tone, though Søren couldn't think of a good reason why.

"Only a guildsman, or one of our appointed couriers, can collect it." It was a white lie, but something about this man was setting him on edge.

"And when might that happen?" The man seemed nervous. Too nervous for it to be the simple job he had earlier claimed.

"By lunch," Søren was blunt. "It's not far."

"I shall return at noon then, master Skjeggestad. I hope this all goes well."

There was something else going on here, but Søren wasn't quite sure what. Given the man's demeanour it seemed possible that the watch was stolen. Which would mean another black mark against his name in the eyes of the people. He couldn't just chase after the man either—theft of such a valuable item was a serious accusation. He had to be sure. He suddenly wished he'd spent longer inspecting the watch before passing it to the jewellers. He had to go now, ask them if they knew—though surely if they did, they'd have told him by now.

Søren took off his apron and glanced around the workshop. The mess would have to wait. Right now there was a far more important matter to attend to. He locked the door behind him, setting off towards the main guildhall. All during the walk conversation hushed as he walked by, accusing fingers pointing to him. Dark looks followed him around Arendelle's narrower streets, and at least once he could hear someone tailing him close by—but the other person always turned into another store or house. Perhaps he was just being paranoid—but the townsfolk's reactions the night before had shaken him badly.

Even worse had been waking up in Vanja's house. It wasn't that Vanja's house was small, or unwelcoming—it was the fact it was her _house_. It showed him just how far he'd fallen that she'd had to resort to dragging him there in order to keep him safe. And to see her without her furs and armour—a vision, almost as if she was two different people sharing the same body. But even that hadn't seemed to faze her. Nothing had. She was completely unflappable, and seemed sometimes more _alive_ than anyone else he'd ever met.

Only then did he realise where his mind had taken him; what it was showing him. He was falling for Vanja, and hard—why else would he be putting so much effort into a simple hunting knife? It was also why he no longer thought so highly or richly of the queen—of Elsa. He was finding himself more deferential to her. Everything was forcing him to change, to become a different person—perhaps even a better one.

He looked up to see the sign hanging above the guildhall's south entrance. It was an old wooden structure, built from spruce and birch, with rosemaled carvings on every wall. Barring the castle it was likely the most valuable—and decorated—building in the town. It was also far more a meeting place than a workshop, with only a handful of rooms devoted to the crafts of the guilds, and almost the entire second floor dedicated to the accomodation of local and foreign guildsmen. The single room on the third floor was built like the hall of a stave church, and sunlight streamed in throughout the day, illuminating the massive table in the middle.

Around that table clustered a handful of other smiths. Søren recognised Jurgen, of the silversmiths; and old Torgeir, the town's master jeweller. Both had apprentices in tow, and next to them stood a man of obvious Castilian descent. Søren frowned. He hadn't thought capitano Ortiz had left anyone behind.

"Ah, my friend," the Castilian boomed in a rich tenor. "I see you are confused, yes?"

Søren nodded.

"I did not come on capitano Ortiz's vessel. I was here before the coronation, hoping that I might negotiate directly with the guilds—with you, in fact. However, I found myself most distracted by the exquisite work of your silversmiths, and master Jurgen here was kind enough to teach me, finding a natural talent beyond my native charisma. Unprofessional for a trader, I know, but now I return with a much greater appreciation for what it takes to produce such intricate pieces."

Walking over, Søren saw that they were all examining the watch, pieces laid out on fine cloth, a polishing pad off to one side. It seemed unlikely now that it could be reconstructed before lunch.

"Ah, Søren," Torgeir turned to him. "We will have it together presently, but I must ask—do you know who this belongs to?"

Søren let out a resigned sigh. "It's not going to be the person that gave it to me, is it?"

"No," Torgeir shook his head, a knowing smile crossing his lips. "But fear not, the watch is not stolen—although quite why he would seek your expertise when the movement is Swiss is beyond me."

"He who?" Søren frowned, fixing Torgeir with a stern look.

Torgeir flicked up the magnifier he had over his eye. "You did not inspect the watch very closely, did you?"

"No," Søren shook his head.

"I would chide you for not following your own advice, but I understand you had other matters on your mind. Come, see of whom we speak." Torgeir cleared the others away and pointed carefully to the frontispiece of the watch. "See the engraving around the edge?"

Søren looked around the rim, finding where the lettering started. He started to mouth the words—and name—in shock. He stood, looking around the room. " _Kronprinz Einar?_ "

"The same," Torgeir assured him. "As I said, I can conceive of no simple reason as to why he would commission you, above the Swiss."

"Neither can I, Torgeir," Søren shook his head in disbelief. "Can you have this ready before lunch?"

"Probably not," Torgeir pointed to the clock on the wall. "But not long after. I would not want to damage something so valuable with a careless slip or misplaced part."

"I'll be on the first floor, in the library."

"You'll be pleased to know we found a translator for that Nipponese text I found two years ago."

"You did?"

"Yes. Very smart young lady. She tells us she's about half done. You'll see her if you're going to the library."

* * *

Anna swam slowly back to consciousness, enjoying the blissful feeling of a full night's rest in the arms of her boyfriend. A sleepy smile crossed her lips—she could even secretly call him her lover now. She liked that. A lot. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered all the ways Kristoff's hands had touched her last night. So gentle, too, for such large hands—not that she was about to complain. She liked that tenderness too. In fact, on reflection, there were a whole lot of things she liked about him. Even the feel of him in her hand had felt… satisfying. Her treacherous—or was it lecherous?—mind wandered to how it might feel to have him… elsewhere.

Her eyes blinked open and she looked quickly around the room. Kristoff was already gone—but for some reason her hand was tangled in her curls below. She felt herself carefully, trying to figure out what it was that made Kristoff's touch so different and pleasurable. After a while she decided that it must have been him—or something about his hands. She sat up, reaching over the side of the bed for her clothes. She looked warily at her blouse. Well, yes, that was going to be hard to explain if anyone saw her wearing it.

So instead of using the hallways and corridors she crept through the secret tunnels to return to her own room, finding a fresh set of clothing laid out on her bed. There was also a note from Gerda. Which was very strange, because Gerda didn't normally leave notes for anything. Upon reading it through, Anna understood why the head maid had left a note rather than wait for her. Although she couldn't figure out quite how she'd learned the news so fast.

After getting dressed she found Gerda in the washroom, doing the laundry. "How did you know?"

Gerda smiled. "That would be telling."

"Fine," Anna huffed. "Then why did you want to talk?"

"To tell you about about a special tea that we can make, for afterwards."

"Special how?" Anna frowned at the head maid, not quite able to put it together.

"You won't get pregnant."

"Oh." Anna looked at her feet, sweeping the dust aside with her toes. "I guess it is special then. But it's okay, we didn't do that last night."

"I won't ask what you did." Gerda returned to the laundry.

"Well, not so much what I did," Anna began. "More what was done, and oh, does it, umm, stain… badly?"

"We can get it out," Gerda gave a long suffering sigh. "But next time try to use something other than your clothes."

"Like…?"

"A damp cloth. But not cold—that would be uncomfortable for you both."

"Gerda?" Anna was suddenly serious, peering deeply into the head maid's eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because your mother never got a chance, dear heart. Someone had to be able to tell you—someone that you'd listen too."

"Good choice," Anna threw her arm around Gerda, squeezing her tight. "Now I know who I can bug if I have weird bodypart related questions too."

"Save us, lord." Gerda stared up at the ceiling. Anna laughed, hugging her again.

"Well, it'd probably be better than asking Elsa, at any rate."

"On second thought, lord, save the queen."

Anna giggled, hand covering her mouth, cheeks colouring slightly. "Okay, I'll just run and get the blouse I, uh, 'stained', last night."

As she ran through the castle, Anna noticed the distinct lack of—well, everyone. No Kristoff. Or Elsa. Or Hank. Or even Olaf. She almost collided with Kai at the end of her hallway, and only as she was scrambling back up did she hear what he was actually saying. She froze mid-step.

Queen for the day?

"There has to be some kind of mistake. We both know I can't run things like Elsa. I can't even _pretend_ to make stuff work that well."

"Her majesty was afraid that without this drastic step you might try following her to the cave."

Anna crossed her arm over her chest. "That _stinker!_ "

But she was right to do so. The last time they'd both gone to the cave they'd nearly caused a crisis of succession back in town. It didn't mean Elsa didn't _want_ her to go—though she had said the magic there might be far more dangerous than her own. It didn't mean that Elsa didn't trust her—well, maybe didn't trust her not to try and sneak herself in—because giving her an entire kingdom to run was an act of supreme trust. While Elsa was away she would be the supreme authority. The gravity of the situation hit her like hammerblow, sending her crashing to the floor. If that was what Elsa dealt with every single day she could understand how her sister could be so tired all the time—and also why she tried to sleep quite early compared to Anna.

"Princess Anna?" Kai was still standing at the end of the hallway.

"Sorry Kai, lost in thought," Anna took several deep breaths. "This is a lot to take in."

"That's why I'm here, your highness. I often advised queen Elsa when she was younger and less sure of herself. If she is gone past Monday—which I seriously doubt—you will also have to conduct a council meeting in her stead."

Anna swallowed hard. Ruling in Elsa's stead would be hard enough. Meeting half a dozen new people, and getting things right while talking to them about things she really should have paid more attention to in her lessons—impossible.

Kai must have seen the look on her face. "Queen Elsa assured me she should be back by tomorrow night, Sunday lunch at the latest. She has taken captain Erikson with her as her protector."

Anna frowned. "Okay, fine—but does anyone know where Kristoff is?"

"The stables, grooming Sven, last I heard."

"Oh, okay. Thanks Kai." And with that she ran off, back to her room, taking a long moment to remember what her original mission had been—and also to curse her stinker of a sister for being so gods damned brilliant at keeping her from following. Not that she wasn't tempted to do so anyway—after all Sven could take her and Kristoff out there no sweat—just see Elsa's reaction. But another part of her wasn't sure she could make it past the walls on her own, let alone across town. She sighed, screwing up the blouse she'd used to clean up her boyfriend's mess. There was another side to it of course—maybe Elsa needed this break from her royal duties. She'd done nothing but run the kingdom and take care of Anna since the coronation—running away to her ice palace notwithstanding.

Anna sighed, falling back against the wall, wincing as her scars began to twinge. It would only be a day, maybe two. It wasn't like the kingdom would burn down in Elsa's absence. She hoped. Anna laughed at the mental image, her standing in the ashes of the kingdom, Elsa coming back, looking up at her with arms crossed and a stern expression. She made her way back to the laundry, handing Gerda the blouse, then scurried off to the kitchens—if she was going to run a kingdom, she needed a good breakfast.


	88. Winter's Regret

He was finally forced to admit it—Elsa was a better rider than him, and that was without the use of her legs. Even the slight hint of her magic used to keep her in the saddle didn't seem to spook the horse she rode. His was rather more skittish, but by now they were at the edge of the border forest and ready to dismount. He jumped down into a light snowfall, gently lifting Elsa from her own saddle. She made a chair as he lowered her towards the ground.

"Thank you, Hank." She smiled up at him, a touch of pink in her cheeks. He pretended not to notice.

"This snow; I assume it is not your doing."

"No, it's not," she rolled through the fresh powder. "Nor is it close to winter."

"You claimed it had something to do with the cave, or the _bautasten_?"

Elsa was silent for a moment, contemplative. "More the person the _bautasten_ speak of. Someone like me."

They lapsed into a companionable silence, a light breeze stirring the snow through the trees, the fall seeming to make way for Elsa's passage. Deeper into the forest and the sky had darkened far more than merely the trees overhead could account for, and Hank felt a growing sense of unease. Something unnatural was at work here. Something unlike Elsa's magic. Still they pressed on, snowfall hanging in the air, drifting in lazy circles, never touching the ground. A soft wind blew past them both, forcing the fall sideways. Hank shivered at the sudden chill—but Elsa didn't even seem to notice. She was solely focused on moving forward.

That was when Hank turned, trying to see the path they had taken into the forest. A path now covered in snow and ice, capped with rich green patches. It was winter on the floor of the forest, but the trees still lived in summer. It was quite the strangest sight he'd seen for a long time. He turned back to Elsa, following at a respectful distance as she drove herself deeper into the growing storm. All around them now thick snow hung in the air, and frost rimed the bark and branches of nearby trees. Underfoot the ground had become perfectly level.

Except it wasn't the ground anymore—it was a giant sheet of ice. His eyes began to trace the start of an enormous spine, a pattern branching out and back, sweeping towards something deeper in the forest. But they were close—he could sense the change, not just the weight of the snow, or the ice underfoot. There was a _feel_ to the air. A spark; a tingle that set the hairs on his neck on end. It was a feeling of supreme power, barely held in check.

And yet, Elsa showed no fear, continuing into the heart of the storm, following the pattern in the ice to its source. He tried moving forward, but the storm no longer parted for him. Elsa had gone to a place where he could not follow. The storm was content only to allow her through now. Hank bowed his head, taking a deep breath. Somewhere ahead he heard a desperate cry. He couldn't let the storm stop him. He looked up, a sudden wind driving him back.

He reached out, pressing onward, wind whipping at his hair and cutting at his cheeks. The chill scoured him to the bone. One foot, lifting slowly, casting aside the snow trying to drive him back. The other foot, stamping down through fresh powder, throwing up a spray of white. A wind suddenly so strong he had to lean into it to avoid being bowled over. Something was trying to keep him out, away from Elsa. And somehow over the wind he heard the whisper of a voice, trying to reassure him.

Hold on to me, love  
You know I can't stay long  
All I wanted to say was, "I love you and I'm not afraid."

It sounded like her. It almost felt like her. But he knew she'd never say that—not that way. The lilting voice continued its song. The wind drove harder, and the snowfall became that much heavier. Still he continued on.

Can you hear me?  
Can you feel me in your arms?

He couldn't stop moving. He had to get to Elsa. She had to be safe. He had to save her from whatever this voice was. It was his duty as her _houscarl_ —and her friend. He took a deep breath, shouting his rejection into the storm.

Despite the lies that you're making  
Her love is mine for the taking  
My love is just waiting  
To turn her tears to roses

The snow tried to crush him. The wind forced him back, stinging his eyes, numbing his fingers. He fell to his knees, the force of the storm overwhleming. The lilting voice rose above the wind, seeming to mock him with every word.

Holding my last breath  
Safe inside myself  
Are all my thoughts of you?  
Sweet raptured light, it ends here tonight

It was all lies, some dark caricature of who Elsa really was. He had to let her know—he had to do more… Tears stung at his cheeks as the wind tried to blind him for good. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to rise. He forced himself into the wind, meeting it head on. The snow was so heavy he was almost swimming through it. It wasn't going to stop him. If Elsa needed him, he would be there. His voice carried further over the wind.

I'll be the one that's gonna hold her  
I'll be the one that she runs to  
My love is a burning, consuming fire

The wind changed, shifting side to side. The snowfall slowed, but ahead he could see a wall of solid ice. He drew his sabre, stepping to the wall. As the first blow landed, the lilting voice changed—and in its note of hope and playfulness he knew that this was the real Elsa. She was in there, somewhere.

I'll miss the winter  
A world of fragile things  
Look for me in the white forest  
Hiding in a hollow tree

The chips he was knocking from the wall froze over again, and a sudden blast of arctic air threw him from the wall into a heavy drift of snow. A quiet echo of the first voice mocked him.

Come find me  
I know you hear me  
I can taste it in your tears

He roared in defiance, charging the wall. If this other wanted to harm Elsa, it would have to go through him first. His arm shook with the impact, great shards of ice splintering away. This time the wall couldn't repair itself fast enough. Through his frenzied assault he sang, a fervent promise to the woman he loved.

No, you'll never be alone  
When darkness comes  
I'll light the night with stars  
You'll hear the whispers in the dark

On the far side of the wall he could see a vague silhouette, low, wispy—powerful. The silhouette vanished in a blurry haze as his sabre finally pierced the far side of the wall. That first lilting voice continued to mock him. Except now it had a face—hovering above her chair, arms outstretched and legs hanging limp, Elsa stared down at him with eyes that were not her own. The words shared her voice, but they weren't hers.

Closing your eyes to disappear,  
You pray your dreams will leave her here;  
But still you wake and know the truth,  
No one's there...

He screwed his eyes shut, wishing he wasn't seeing the scene before him. Behind her he could see the source of it—the _bautasten_. He ran straight for it. A blast of air and ice threw him back. He ducked and rolled, falling just short as another blast threw him sideways, into another of the standing stones. He staggered forward, almost falling into a forest of icy spines. The weight of snow above him threatened to suffocate him. He reached out—just a fraction more.

His fingers brushed the _bautasten_.

The blast echoed through the forest, halfway to Arendelle. Everything shot outwards, and just as suddenly collapsed inwards. The trees shook with the suddenness of its passage, leaves rustling in distress. Elsa fell hard, and Hank heard a ghastly crack, unable to get to her in time. Her chair had vanished. Two of the _bautasten_ had fallen. The third had split into three, sundered by the power it had held in check. Smoke still rose from the base of that lonely pillar.

He rushed over to Elsa, hands coming away covered in blood as he felt for hidden injuries. Her dress had torn in the wind and with the icy blasts, leaving her indecently exposed. Despite the chill, He had already placed his jacket over her. The words came to him unbidden.

You feel so lonely and ragged  
You lay here broken and naked  
My love is just waiting  
To clothe you in crimson roses

She stirred, looking up at him, wiping bloodied hair away from her face. Despite it all she was smiling, insensate—or unable to feel the pain. She sang, but the words weren't to him.

Say goodnight,  
Don't be afraid,  
Calling me, calling me as you fade to black.

He crouched next to her, helping her clean up, bandaging her wounds as best as he could—but her magic already seemed to be taking care of it, ice flowing over her skin, stopping the bleeding, holding a splintered bone immobile, cleaning blood up in crimson flakes that littered the ground nearby. As she sat up, he fixed his jacket around her, helping her button it up. He sang softly for her, a quiet refrain.

I will be the one that's gonna find you  
I will be the one that's gonna guide you  
My love is a burning, consuming fire

Scooping her up in his arms, he stood, spying the cave that was supposedly their destination. It would be better shelter than the forest floor. She had also mentioned a lake, something they could drink from, and something he could use to clean her wounds. His song finished as he set her down by the lakeshore, water falling from the rift overhead, casting a rainbow light around the cave. A million points of light danced before them.

No, you'll never be alone  
When darkness comes  
I'll light the night with stars  
You'll hear the whispers in the dark

* * *

Anna had decided that today was not a particularly queenly day, finding herself buried under Elsa's normal mountain of paperwork—paperwork she had at least been trying to help with of late. There were a handful of letters she just wouldn't touch. All of those came from personal correspondents, their words with Elsa supposedly held in the strictest confidence. Well, at least as far as Elsa was concerned. Anna had been tempted in the past, trying to find out more about her sister, but now she really didn't feel the need. Hel, there were some things Elsa might have been a little too open with between them.

Anna threw her head back, resting her calves on the edge of her sister's desk. Had Elsa been present, that would have been sure to get a rise from her. Instead it got her a flippant comment from her latest guest.

"Pretty sure Elsa wouldn't approve of that."

"Yeah, well, what she doesn't know…" Anna retorted. "And anyway, where have you been all day?"

"The stables, grooming Sven. Taking him for a ride around town." Kristoff stared her down. "Asking him for advice on courting a princess."

That worked. Anna rocked forwards, fixing Kristoff with a stare of her own. "Given last night, I'd say you're doing pretty well on your own."

"Not just that—and not that I needed help with it anyway—but more about me working the mountain in winter. I'm going, but I really don't want you to hate me for it, because I really quite like you and, umm… I like you?"

"Let me guess," Anna poked her tongue at him. "You'll tell me you were raised by trolls."

"It's a valid excuse," Kristoff threw his hands wide. "What's yours—locked in a castle for ten years?"

"Hey!" Anna scowled at him. "No fair."

"Truce?"

Anna huffed, crossing her arm over her chest. "Fine. Truce. What did you want?"

"I was looking for you—Kai said you wanted to see me."

"Oh… umm…" Anna felt her cheeks burning. "That was maybe an accident because everyone kinda disappeared from the castle and I was afraid maybe you'd gone further too but then you were in the stables and he said I was queen for today and so I kinda forgot everything else I might've said to him and—"

"Please, take a breath," Kristoff leaned forward in his seat. "You're making me sweat."

"—and anyway I went back to Gerda for the laundry—which is kinda your fault—then breakfast, and for most of the afternoon I've been stuck doing all this stuff Elsa normally does so I can't think for myself and even the juice is gone and I think I had a sandwich somewhere and… and…"

Kristoff reached out to take her hand, Anna let him, feeling some of the tension ebb from her body. "You need a break." He was right. So right. Even Elsa took breaks—even if she didn't seem to leave the desk, let alone the room. With a sigh Anna swung her legs to the floor, standing, fighting a sudden wave of dizziness. Kristoff was suddenly beside her.

"I just stood up too fast is all."

"You don't like it when I'm concerned about you?" There was something else underscoring his words, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Well, I can mostly take care of myself, except for the going outside thing, and the talking thing a little while ago, and—hey, are you trying to make a point?"

"Soon. Just answer the question."

"Well, I do like it sometimes, it makes me feel nice." It felt like more than that, too, sometimes, but she wasn't ready to tell him. Not yet. But she was suddenly starting to understand why he might be raising the topic—because he was asking how _she_ felt about something very similar.

"And maybe sometimes you think I'm overprotective?"

"Well… yeah," Anna admitted bluntly. "I mean, I'm not really fragile or broken or anything, and I like that you care about me, but there are times I gotta do my own thing; sometimes even get hurt. Hmph. Then again, even Elsa doesn't get that sometimes."

"Oh, I get it, feistypants," Kristoff wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I just think you need a good break about now, you've been working for four hours straight."

"I have?"

"Okay, three and a half. But you still need a break, don't you?" Anna nodded, starting them moving out of the office. "I'm surprised you didn't go mad with boredom after the first hour."

He was concerned; also, deflecting. They turned down the hall, walking to the main stairs. "And I'm surprised you haven't asked me about my concerns for you."

"Because I can read you like an open book." He gave her a subtle wink. "And because I don't think I can change your mind."

"So you won't even try?" She scowled at him.

"Not while everything else is trying to bury you." He really was being honest. Again the concern she didn't feel she needed.

"How very noble of you."

"I am not one of those prissy stick-up-their-butts nobles!" Completely missing the point.

Anna roared with laughter.

"What? What did I say?"

Patting him on the back, Anna shook her head, not bothering to explain. She'd needed that. So stupid, but she had. He was right, too—he wasn't a noble; he was being kind. She wondered if a prince would have been as guileless about it. Probably not, she decided, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. They were getting close to the kitchens now. Oh, but he knew her so well. She held the door open for him, smiling.

"Eat first, argue later," then she was in the kitchen, pestering the cooks. She heard Kristoff sigh behind her, picking up a handful of carrots. She turned to fix him with a knowing look. "If you're sharing with Sven, I won't be able to kiss you anymore."

"Ooh, hard choice," and the great lummox was actually stroking his chin in mock-contemplation. Anna fumed.

"I—"

"I'm joking—you really are strung out today. Both of us get enough here we don't have to share like that anymore." That was a relief. "Much."

Anna couldn't help herself. "Eww."

Kristoff just laughed.

* * *

Elsa sat huddled near the underground shore, Hank's jacket hanging loosely from her shoulders—she'd undone the buttons, unconcerned about her appearance. A lot was going through her mind, most of it about them, some of it about Thyrí. She didn't know if the other woman's spirit had finally been freed—Hank had touched the _bautasten_ just as the channelling was complete. And yet for him it seemed mere minutes had passed, while for her it had been hours, learning all there was to know about Thyrí. She shook her head, knowing she'd been quiet and withdrawn for too long now, Hank sitting beside her, not brave enough to reach out.

Except right now she wasn't sure she wanted him to.

He might have ruined everything for Thyrí. Her spirit might have been trapped in another of the _bautasten_ —or locked away somewhere else entirely. The thought made Elsa shudder. She had kept her magic extended for what felt like hours, but nothing brushed against it, and the effort was starting to tell. She knew her face was drawn, and she was hungry and strangely weary—but not at all tired. She wanted support and understanding, but she was afraid—afraid of what Hank might think, or do, if he knew everything. If he hadn't already figured it out—and from the brooding, concerned look, maybe he had.

She didn't know where to start. And after she'd woken up to his song as well. Not a word of a lie, and revealing all of his undisclosed desires. She shivered, hugging herself. Why couldn't he just reach out? She turned to look at him again, the way he was holding himself—was it possible he blamed _himself_ for this? Not that he was entirely wrong to do so, but he didn't know the full story. With a breath full of trepidation, and her hand shaking with unknown fears, Elsa reached out to twine her fingers with his.

"I… I don't think you're okay," he was quiet, but firm. "But I'm afraid to ask what happened to you—in case it still _is_."

Elsa let out a humourless laugh, a single tear rolling down her cheek. A tear he never saw, unable to meet her gaze.

"And I even think going back for help would be the smartest thing, but… well, I just can't leave you here. If you are hurt, and can't tell me, I can't just leave you here. I won't abandon you."

"I know," Elsa leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm angry, and sad, and confused right now. Part of me hates you. Part of me loves you. Part of me has no idea what's going on anymore."

His next question cut right through her armour. "But is that you, or is there more in there?"

She shook her head sadly. "I don't know how I'd prove it. It would have all my memories, wouldn't it?"

A heavy sigh echoed through the cave. "Touché. I'd not thought of that."

"Anna tried it on me once, when she used to put notes under my door. So I drew a picture of her on that ridiculous bike, tilting at my door."

"That sounds like Anna." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "You really don't want to talk about it, do you?"

She didn't. It was good he could see that. She just didn't know _why_ she didn't want to talk about it. Maybe it was just too much to process for one day—and all this time she'd thought Thryí would be the one to help _her_ , teach her about _Ismakt,_ and more. But she couldn't call her a selfish bitch—she'd been trapped for over five hundred years. Cursed. A fate far worse than what her own cursed ice could inflict. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair.

Stripping off what was left of her clothes, Elsa struggled and fought her way to the water's edge, knowing that Hank could have helped her if she'd asked. She just wanted to prove she could still do something herself. Already she could feel her hair starting to drift out into a silvery halo. Tiny swirls of blood trailed around her, the ice on her cuts slowly thawing in the water. She pushed hard with her arms, driving herself from the shore. Overhead, clouds hid the sun, casting the cave into a dim twilight, turning the falling water into a thick haze.

She drifted out to the centre of the lake, distance somehow her only defence. The entire world seemed to fall away, her magic with it. She was too exhausted to keep it all going. All she'd seen, all she'd learned; it was all too much. She lay on her back, floating aimlessly in the water, staring up at an empty sky. What was the point? There was no one like her in the world. Even her magic had run from her now—but it only made her feel worse. Everything seemed to be crashing down around her.

A hand brushed against hers in the water, fingertips drifting past. She turned to see Hank looking studiously away from her.

"I know you're not okay," his voice was heavy and sincere. "And maybe you can't even ask for help; it's so dark right now."

She looked away, but her hands gently paddled her closer.

"But if you want me to stay all you need do is reach out and touch my hand. I'll stay. We don't have to speak. Just touch my hand—or push me away."

Elsa shivered, unable to feel the chill in the lake. Her body was frozen, icy fractals branching and plating across her skin before making their way over the water to him. He said nothing. Did nothing. He was waiting—waiting for her. She was waiting for a sign—any kind of sign—about what to do next. The song—the vision of a dream—echoed in her head. _Formless and vanquished you shall travel_. She had thought that the crushing responsibility from the execution had vanquished her.

But this?

This was far worse. It felt as if everything she'd ever known had been torn away; as if she was a hollow shell, waiting for the end. She didn't even know what that shell was supposed to be filled with any more. Her quiet gasp echoed above the murmuring waterfalls. She was formless, and vanquished. She had traveled—to get here. But somehow that seemed wrong, as if the travel the vision spoke of was something more. She felt a strange tug from behind her stomach, something buried inside—or something returning—she opened herself to it, filling an empty shell.

Crystal snow filled the cave with glittering rainbows. She floated on a slab of ice so richly purple it stained the water around it. The thing inside reached out to her, and she met it with open arms. Suddenly she was outside the cave. Outside the world. Snow seemed to fall with every step she took. No. The snow was rising, shooting into the sky in cometary streaks. In her heart she felt a fire—and above her the blackness began to fill with stars. Her stars.

Silent voices filled her head. She couldn't make sense of them, but she could tell they wanted to help. Only then did she notice the shadow behind her. Only then did she see it shedding itself to throw her snowfall to the sky. The shade wasn't hers. The sky was the mythical darkness. The shadow whispered to her, gently taking her hand as it rose from the ground.

"You'll never be alone." It had Hank's voice.

"You'll light the night with stars…" Elsa trailed off.

"When the darkness comes."

"And I'll hear the whispers in the dark…" Elsa shook her head. Hank's song hadn't been just a song. Neither had Thryí's. They were a vision, and a promise.

She blinked, floating in the lake, Hank's fingers gently curled around her own. When had that happened? He turned to her, giving her a tight, worried smile as he squeezed her hand. The surface of the lake was covered in floating patches of frost, drifting and bumping together with the current. Both her and Hank were following them, passing slowly under the misty waterfalls. She started to push them back, her hands and magic working subtly to drive them to shore.

"Hank?" her voice was too quiet.

"Your maj—Elsa?" Still the same old Hank. She almost laughed.

"I don't think I can make it back to the castle tonight."

"I'll unpack your bedroll then," his voice was so matter-of-fact it was unsettling. "You might need some extra blankets in here too."

"Why…" she trailed off, suddenly unsure that she was the only that had changed. "Why aren't you asking me?"

"Because you don't want to talk about it."

"What if I have to—but I'm too scared?"

"I… I can't… I won't force it out of you. I'm not that person."

"Why do you have to be so damn _proper!_ " A burst of snow flung itself away from her.

"Because you deserve better."

Elsa looked away, unable to meet his gaze. He was right, and it was starting to happen—he was going to drift away.

"But you're an idiot if you think I'm going anywhere. I'm your _houscarl_. I'm your _friend_." His voice suddenly became very soft, bashful and sanguine at once. "Maybe one day, if I'm very lucky, I might even be your consort." She could see the sudden colour rise in his cheeks.

"It's not me that deserves better…" Elsa shook her head sadly, finally understanding. This was why she was so confused. This was why she was angry at him, and why she loved him. This was why teasing him had seemed so fun, and why Anna wanted to see them together. He could have had so much more, she knew she was holding him back—and yet… a sudden chill raced down her spine. He had chosen _her_. Time and again, her. Helping her, putting up with her, comforting her, managing Anna, protecting them both—even risking his life to save hers.

She whispered quietly into the growing darkness, knowing he would hear anyway. "It's not me that deserves better… it's you."


	89. In the Dark of the Night

After working through as much of the royal correspondence as she could handle, Anna found herself in the library—or rather, what was left of it. The ice had thawed, but that had only served to soak the carpet. The bookcases were gone, splinters and matchsticks all that remained of those closest to Elsa's outburst. Even those lining the walls hadn't gotten away unscathed. A light breeze blew tattered curtains around the big window at the far end of the room. Even the reading desk seemed unrecoverable, its top torn into three ragged planks, and at least one leg was just _gone_. That wasn't even the worst of it.

Anna knew how much the books had meant to Elsa; and the knowledge in them. It wasn't just individual books, but entire volumes that were missing. Loose leaves and torn pages scudded about in the breeze. The odd half-fold was caught under various piles of debris. The books against the walls had scoured spines or torn covers, some with great chunks ripped from their faces. She continued through the carnage, rescuing odd pages here, covers there, even a few of the curios that had decorated the room. It was never going to be the same room again. Not with those memories locked in here.

She couldn't even be sure any good at all had come from it—though she was at least trying to tidy the room, saving what she could. The pile of discards and rejects was far too large, and no amount of magic was going to fix that. But the books weren't unique—except maybe the ones on magic—and the shelves could be rebuilt out of something sturdier. Maybe ironwork. Anna smiled at the thought—theirs would be the only library in the world with armoured shelves. She laughed at the idea of putting a suit of armour at the end of each row.

Still, some things could be saved, and she was thankful for that. Only a single Flynn Rider had survived intact, and it wasn't even in her top three. The rest were in tatters, or scattered far and wide—much like his riches tended to be in every new adventure. Half the fun was figuring out where that might take him next. It was also his wit, and daring, dashing, manner. Roguish, but never evil. A teenage fantasy, and a far cry from her current boyfriend—who she wasn't even sure was able to read. Yet another thing she could try teaching him.

But she had to stay focused, cleaning the library, keeping herself busy in one of Elsa's favourite rooms. She looked at the piles she'd made around the room. Everything had been sorted, now all it needed was Kai and the household staff to help clean it up. As she worked she'd also been writing in a small ledger—kept propped up on the mantelpiece—listing every title she found, and all those she could remember. They could recover the collection—and, she thought suddenly, if the hall of records had copies of the castle's library it would be very much easier. Probably just the books about Arendelle though, and maybe a list of the special works there.

With a heavy sigh, Anna closed the ledger and set off through the castle to find the staff. The first thing would be boarding over the window, then cleaning everything else up. A handful of people she could manage easily enough. Not a kingdom, like her sister had left her. But there would be times in the future when Elsa went away, or got sick, or things happened. Anna groaned in frustration, knowing that she wouldn't so easily avoid the hard work next time. And there would _be_ a next time.

It didn't take long to find the appropriate staff, and after setting them to work she turned back through the castle, looking for the one person likely to sympathise with her about running a kingdom. Or at least listen to her complaints about doing it on such short notice. She found him in the smaller, informal, dining room, enjoying some kind of stew. He was doing his best to try and figure out which spoon went where at the place setting. He was using the wrong one, of course, but he couldn't be expected to know that.

"Second from the left," Anna pointed out the correct utensil. "Or you could just use a fork for the meaty bits."

He was still staring at the silverware. "Why are there so many spoons?"

"I ask myself that a lot," she admitted, sitting in the chair closest to him. "It's hard running a kingdom."

"I guess it is, but that's not going to explain the splinters in your hair."

"Do I really—oh, yep, there it is."

"Doing something practical this afternoon?"

"Cleaning the library. There was kind of an accident yesterday."

There was a pregnant pause. Kristoff took another spoonful of stew.

"Elsa exploded it."

"She what?!"

"Well she was all sad and torn up from watching the execution and it got to her so bad she just couldn't hold it in anymore, and BANG!—there goes half the library. I was making a list of everything we'd saved, and everything we need to find again, except I don't think we can find half of these things again; or this one; or that secret book I was telling you about. Then I started thinking about some ironwork shelving and armoured bookcases, and well, it kinda got weird after that."

"I guess so," Kristoff gave her a confused smile. "But I thought you were complaining about running a kingdom?"

"Oh, I guess I got a little distracted. There's no easy way to do any of this, and then I finally find some of the letters I can reply to, and even though I've been doing it a while I'm not sure I should respond to all of these myself—I mean what sort of message does it send about Elsa being a queen?—and then I did few anyway because I wanted to be helpful, then I look through the kingdom's ledgers—or, well, some of them—and I have _no_ idea how she keeps track of everything, and even Kai couldn't help that much so I got bored and headed for the library to find some books about running kingdoms, only I'd forgotten Elsa's little renovation, so I got side-tracked cleaning the place up and rescuing a boatload of our books."

Kristoff was just staring at her. "Anna, please, _breathe_ when you talk."

"Do I need to repeat something?" Anna gave him a sheepish look.

"No, I got it. I still have no idea how you can say all that without needing to take a breath."

"That's not important, and anyway, what have you been up to today—you haven't exactly been easy to find." He hadn't, but she also hadn't been able to spend much time finding him, running a kingdom and cleaning the library.

"I was helping Harald muck-out the stables—I know I'm bit smelly, don't worry, I'll take a bath—and talking to the castle's craftsmen about getting a new sled. Another, new sled."

"You were working." She was annoyed, not quite understanding. She ignored the part about the sled—she knew why he wanted it.

"I gotta earn my keep somehow." Her frustration grew as she scowled at his reply.

"You get to stay here because I want you here, you don't have to do anything to keep your place." Why couldn't he see that?

"You're wrong," the simple statement was disarming. "You can say I get to stay here because of you, but what right does that give me to ask for anything? I want to help, and I know I'm not good at kingdom stuff, so I'll just use my hands—" he passed no comment on her sudden blush. "—and help where I can. I want to be _useful_. Just sitting around doing nothing, or trying to read the books for the lessons Kai is helping me with… it's doing my head in. I can't be _noble_. It's all a bunch of stupid, prissy rules for liars anyway—why can't they just be honest about what they want?"

"Don't forget, I'm one of those people." Anna let an edge of anger into her voice. It wasn't that he was wrong…

"And I'm pretty sure you're one of the better ones. But I just don't get it, and this harvest festival, I just know I'm going to screw something up so horribly and then _you_ get blamed for me being an idiot, or worse, and then… well, I don't know. I might honestly end up duelling someone over some stupid _words_. I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can live in your world."

Anna laughed softly. This was what was bothering him so much, why he wanted to run to the mountains—though he'd said that wouldn't be until winter. "You don't have to _live_ in my world."

"I don't?" He was genuinely surprised.

"You just visit from time to time. It's easy."

"For you to say."

"There's something you still haven't thought of about this whole thing. Someone who probably knows the rules better than Kai, talks really well, and runs a kingdom; someone you could ask for help."

"Elsa?" he had a very skeptical frown, matched by her sudden look of consternation.

"Me, you stinker. _Me_."

"Oh… that would make a lot more sense," he frowned again. "But you don't really run the kingdom."

"Today I do. I'm counting it."

"But you were just…" he saw her warning look. "Never mind."

A mischievous grin crept across her lips. "I could also help you with that bath you mentioned earlier."

"I am perfectly capable of bathing mysel—oh," the penny dropped. "Oh, okay… 'help'. If you really want."

"You can wash me, too. It's kinda hard to do around my back these days."

"But not your front?" he gave her a wry smile.

"Well, you can wash that too if you'd like, it's only fair…"

* * *

Elsa sat at the shore of the lake, her legs hanging limp in the water. Hank sat behind her, his shoulders against hers. She was still wearing his jacket—at his insistence. He didn't seem to understand that the cold simply could not harm her. Or that she couldn't feel it. They hadn't spoken for what seemed like hours, stars beginning to twinkle overhead, seen through the mirrored surface of the lake. He was tense, she was afraid. Neither of them seemed able to find their voice right now.

She wanted to tell him, and blame him for ruining things. She didn't want to tell him, but somehow thank him for reaching out. She wanted him to hold her, yet she wanted to be alone. She wanted him to tell her it was alright, and to call her an idiot, or a stinker, or anything—she wanted to _feel_. But she also knew his words from the other night rang true—feeling too much meant she was couldn't feel at all. She felt hollow, and wrong. If she was so numb, why did silent tears run down her cheeks, leaving her wishing the one behind her would lift her chin and kiss the pain away.

But if the pain didn't go away, she would run from it. She knew herself well enough to know, to remember the last time. Her feet casting great snowflakes in the water as she escaped across the fjord. People had followed her, because others had been hurt. Because they wanted to find her, and hurt her, and help her, and try and make her see what she'd done. Behind her, she knew Hank wasn't one of those people. He'd never seen her ice palace. He hadn't tried to find her out of some stupid sense of duty.

He had reached out, once, because she had scared a child nearby. He had reached out, again, when she found herself surrendering to the darkness. Here, now, he had reached out again, knowing that in the moment he was hated with such fire it nearly consumed her. He would keep reaching out, always. Even if he couldn't be everything she needed, she knew he was trying—trying so very hard. It was a noble thing, and it just made her feel worse.

"Why…" her voice was a ragged whisper. "Why did you choose me?"

"As I recall, your majesty, it was of your own volition that you decided I would be your _houscarl_."

And he was right. In choosing someone she knew she could trust, she had brought this on herself. She wanted to scream, and rage, _break_ something, but she knew it was a useless gesture. What was done, was done, and she had to accept that. She had to accept that people could forgive her when she couldn't forgive herself. She had to accept that people could find her worthy when she could find no worth in herself. She even had to accept the cruel blow that at once had filled with her hope and torn her apart. She had to accept that sometimes she could make no mistakes—but that she could still _fail_.

She swallowed hard. It was one of the most terrifying lessons she would ever learn. And still she wanted to run from that truth; hide away from the world. Somewhere, anywhere she could be safe. But… but… not _alone_. She didn't want to be alone. Terror filled her heart as she imagined what she might do if she was alone, if there was no one there to stop her. A great dread threatened to swallow her soul as her mind showed her how those that found her would react. She choked back a sob, arms wrapped around her chest, hugging herself for all she was worth.

"I know you might not want me here right now," Hank's voice was low and even. "But I won't leave you."

She opened her mouth to thank him, but her voice suddenly failed her. She couldn't find the words. She hung her head in shame, hot tears running down her cheeks. Even now, he was still concerned for her. It was deeper than she could honestly appreciate in that moment. With a heavy sigh she fell back into drift of freshly conjured snow, turning away from Hank; away from the world. The stars shone against the surface of the lake, shot through with the green and blue of the northern lights. The stars were so far away it made the night seem small, her worries trivial, and her entire life insignificant. They cared not for a single life.

Somehow, it was comforting.

She drifted awake some time later, the stars visibly changed, the northern lights fading into the night. Someone had covered her with a blanket, carefully wrapping her legs, and tucking it under her shoulders. There was only one person it could be, but still her mind told her it had to be someone else.

"Papa?"

"Hush now," a hand gently rubbed her shoulder. "You were having a bad dream."

She turned to the voice, knowing who it belonged too. And yet, despite having Hank's face, he had her father's adoring smile, when she'd been but a child filled with wonder at the world around. He was only the second person she'd seen wearing that smile. Even Anna had not. She shuffled slightly, freeing a hand to find his. Their fingers curled around, and somehow she felt safer, more centred, less afraid of herself. With him, somehow, she could face the dark unafraid.

It didn't mean facing it wouldn't hurt, just that it wasn't scary anymore. She just had to take that first step—because he had promised never to force her. It was her courage that needed testing, not his. She took a deep breath.

"I…" How could she start? With his words? "I'm not okay."

"Would you like to talk about it?" His voice was a whisper—her knew how serious this was.

"No." Her voice was firm, resolved. "But I have to. I _have_ to."

"Then I have to listen." It really was that simple.

Elsa swallowed, looking away, squeezing his hand for support. "Her name was Thyrí, a _seidr_ of _ismakt_ , and I guess she was a lot like me. She was smart, and driven, and hurt. She lost her family in a war she never wanted; they were killed to try and stop her magic. It only made it worse, and at the end she couldn't even remember their names—or the name of the people that tried to hurt her. She wandered between tribes, trading magic for living space, or these special runestones, or even just food.

"She was wasting away when the trolls found her, and offered to make it all better. They said they could take away her pain. But they didn't understand, and neither did she. They stole her memories, and when she realised what they'd done, she demanded them back. But the magic only works once, so she threatened them with her own. They fought, and they all lost. She died, but they cursed her soul, forcing it into the _bautasten_. But, in turn, she had cursed them—if they ever left the Valley of the Living Rock they would turn back to stone. Forever. They were trapped as much as she was.

"I learned… I learned so much. She took my body—I let her take it, to have a moment of freedom. We tried to break the curse. Our magic together would have been strong enough to level the _bautasten_. All of them. Five. Hundred. Years. She had suffered long enough, just aware enough to see magic fading from the world, but unable to do a single thing about it. She was forced to watch as the old ways were lost, and the forest grew around the cave. She even knew her curse had worked—because she never saw another troll again.

"But she was also angry, and bitter, and full of spite, and I wanted her gone as much as I wanted her freed but… but I didn't realise what her being gone _meant_. I would be alone, forever. Truly the last of the _seidr_. No one to guide me, or tell me what my magic can do. She didn't even tell me if our _ismakt_ was good, or bad, or… anything. So much I wanted to know, and then… and then you were there, kneeling over me. I saw smoke rising from the _bautasten_ , but I don't know if we broke the curse. I don't know if she's finally free, or stuck somewhere even worse.

Elsa wept as she finished, turning so Hank could see her tears in the starlight. He had to know now what she needed. He _had_ to. She felt him drawing her up, cradling her in his lap. His arms were around her, holding her tight as she wept into his shirt. He said nothing—he just held her. She felt a soft kiss against her crown. The tears had stopped, and she took an unsteady breath. He stared deeply into her eyes, and she saw that smile curl the corner of his mouth. Suddenly she knew what he was thinking and what he was seeing.

She shifted her hips awkwardly, pretending to be uncomfortable. They both fell back into fresh powder, throwing up a spray of white. She laughed, happy for a fleeting instant. She could see the confusion and uncertainty on his face in the shifting starlight. She knew it might be wrong, but that this might also be her only chance. He wanted her to think of only good things, for her memories to be happy ones—he thought she'd suffered enough. That was why he thought she deserved better—but just as he chose her, she chose him.

They were close now, dangerously close. She could feel his breath tickling the end of her nose. She could see the surprise reflected in his eyes. So many things between them. She had to make the first move—because it seemed he never would. Their lips met. She turned away, hiding a sudden blush, and her welling tears. A nova flash of brilliance against the darkness she felt—and it only served to deepen that darkness. She knew it was a mistake, one she could never take back.

Gentle hands turned her to him, a single finger pressed against her lips. They lay in a silent embrace, his chin resting atop her head. He said nothing; offered nothing—but in turn he listened; demanding nothing. Her shield. She held on for dear life. Even from herself. She knew he had seen the turmoil on her face just before that kiss. He might not know about loving her as much she wanted, but he knew all there seemed to know about protecting her.

Her fist slammed against his chest. "Why?" Slam. "Why?" A stronger hand caught hers. "Why are you so damned noble?" It was a crushing hug—enough to immobilise her arms. After a moment he relented.

"Because you still can't see it." Definitely not the answer she'd been expecting.

"See what?" Sudden curiosity had overcome her disquiet.

"How worthy you are."

She shook her head sadly. "I don't feel it."

"You don't have to _feel_ worthy to _be_ worthy of someone. I—I mean, _they_ , get to decide that for themselves."

Elsa smiled at his sudden slip. "You think I'm worthy?"

"More than worthy—that's why I said that you deserved better than myself."

"No," Elsa shook her head, smiling sadly. "I don't even deserve you."

"Then who _do_ you deserve?" His tone was so sincere that the obvious answer died on her lips. No-one, she'd been about to say—but now he'd made her think. Maybe there was someone she deserved. More than one someone, in fact. She just couldn't figure out why.

"I… I don't know. Maybe Anna, being a brat, because I shut her out for so long. Maybe Kai and Gerda, because even though they're my servants, I tried never to ask too much of them. Gerhardt, probably, because let's face it, I needed his bluntness and enmity to _learn_. Søren hating me, because I had his son executed. Vanja being Vanja because… actually, I don't know why. Bishop Gudbrand, because even when I lashed out he continued to listen, and build my spirit. Even Kristoff, I guess, for causing everything to go wrong between Anna and Hans, and okay I don't regret that, but I shouldn't have tried to just take away all her happiness—I should have been a lot more mature about that."

"Miss anyone important?" There was a note of mischief in Hank's voice.

"Oh, well, Olaf, because I kinda made him; Marshmallow too. The Duke of Weaseltown—don't deserve him at all, but in the other way. And…"

She could feel Hank holding his breath.

"…yes, you. I hate you being right about this, just so you know."

"Being Queen gives you that power," Hank smiled in the darkness. "But it doesn't make you right."


End file.
